


Adventures in Solitude

by Bloodism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: deancasbigbang, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodism/pseuds/Bloodism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Castiel was just another reminder of what had nearly come to pass. Of what his brothers and sisters had been planning. The brothers and sisters that he could no longer hear in his head. He was falling, slowly, and he wanted so badly for the Winchesters to be there to catch him.’</p><p>Castiel succeeds in stopping the apocalypse, but at a price. He loses his Grace and leaves the Winchesters. After Falling, he is found by a twelve-year-old hunter. For a year, he stays with Jude and her sister, Fae. He learns to be human, finds a new family.</p><p>It doesn’t last long. There’s an angel who wants him dead and Fae and Jude get dragged into the chase. They take two separate journeys and by what seems to be pure chance, Fae bumps into the Winchesters, unaware that her sister is travelling with the very person they’re grieving for.</p><p>Days pass, tension rises, secrets are revealed, stories are told, one last battle fought and what was thought to be coincidence starts to seem an awful lot like Fate…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For deancasbigbang 2012.

**1st July 2009**  
  
When the Winchesters save the world, he’s not there.  
  
He’s staring at the windows that are no longer rattling, at the light that has dissolved and yet still lingers in dots behind his eyes. Chuck is next to him, a weak, relieved mass of body and bone. He can’t fool Castiel. Castiel had felt the inkling of courage and refusal radiating out of the prophet. He had been about to order the archangel to leave Castiel - an order that would have probably doomed them both to a messy death.  
  
But now, there’s silence. Dust dances down from the ceiling and the walls creak with exhaustion. Castiel is alive, but only just. His grace is fading, dwindling down to nothing. He can make two more trips.  
  
Without a word to Chuck, he unfurls his crippling wings and flies.

-

When he gets to the altar, Sam and Dean are standing over Lilith and Ruby’s dead bodies. The seal on the ground is broken by a handprint painted in the righteous man’s blood. Dean’s palm is coated crimson, seeping through the heavy fabric of Sam’s jacket. They’re grasping each other, laughing, shoulders sagged with relief. It’s an image that Castiel wants to remember, and so he imprints it in his mind. He takes a step forward but stops himself.  
  
The scene before him was about to be shattered by his presence. And he didn’t want it to end. Since they were both old enough to talk, it had always been Dean and Sam. The two boys who were known as heroes to very few, and yet had just saved the world. There was no one to give them credit. They just had tomorrow to look forward to.  
  
Castiel was just another reminder of what had nearly come to pass. Of what his brothers and sisters had been planning. The brothers and sisters that he could no longer hear in his head. He was falling, slowly, and he wanted so badly for the Winchesters to be there to catch him. But he couldn’t… He couldn’t take this away from them.  
  
“Hey Cas.”  
  
Castiel lifts his head up, and Dean’s looking over his shoulder, eyes bright and friendly and welcoming, drawing him in, making him move closer. The two brothers rearrange themselves, facing him with this  _shine_  in their gazes. It hurts. This trust that they now hold in him… he can’t deal with it.  
  
“I’m leaving,” Cas says bluntly, voice sturdy and strong. The brothers’ smiles falter.  
  
“What?” Sam asks, but Castiel knows he heard him perfectly.  
  
“You goin’ back to Heaven? To those dicks?” Dean steps forwards, and the shine in his gaze is fading. It’s transforming, darkening, filled with accusation. The trust is being torn away.  
  
“Something like that,” Castiel replies, unable to lie to him, and yet unable to tell the truth.  _I don’t belong at your side, Dean. Sam does._  
  
“Well, how long will you be gone? A few days? Months?” Sam’s worried, Castiel can tell. His borrowed heart throbs with regret that he can’t explore a friendship with this boy who he had been taught to call an ‘abomination’. Sam Winchester is wise, clever, loving. Like a true angel should be; soldier or not.  
  
“I… don’t know.” Castiel looks down, unable to look at the boys. When silence greets him, he lifts his head once again. Sam’s frowning, his eyes are glistening and the edges of his mouth are downturned. Dean is clenching his jaw, gaze steely and brow low. “I’m sorry. For what my family has done. There’s no way I can possibly fix it.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Cas,” Sam says sympathetically. Dean is still silent. Castiel sends Sam a weak smile and shares it with Dean.  
  
“If I wasn’t an angel…” He hesitates, and swallows his words. They come out anyway; “If I weren’t an angel, I would be proud to be your brother.”  
  
There’s a stunned silence, and even Dean’s hard expression has softened. Castiel nods and stretches his fingers out before gathering them into his palm. It’s time to leave.  
  
He meets Dean Winchesters eyes – the righteous man, the man who he gave everything for, the man who taught him right from wrong – and then lets out a breath. He starts to turn his back on them, but Sam’s voice stops him.  
  
“Cas,” Castiel is facing away from them, but he twists his head around to look. There’s a smile on Sam’s face. A smile he had only seen Sam use toward Dean. “You  _are_  our brother.”  
  
Castiel’s grace throbs and churns, his heart trembles, he opens his mouth, but the words he wants to say dissolve on his tongue. He has to leave. He has one last journey.  
  
He sways, opens his torn wings and flies away.

-

Dean watches the empty space where Castiel had been moments before and his stomach’s suddenly heavy. The buzz of their victory is still zipping through his veins, but it is dampened by the abrupt departure of who he thought was his friend. Would he be seeing Cas again?  
  
Sam huffs out a breath.  
  
“I hope he’s okay, man. He looked pretty torn up.”  
  
“Whatever. We gotta go celebrate.” He slaps Sam on the chest and starts walking. Amongst the feeling of success and the heavy rock in his gut is something else. It’s distrust and regret at what he was really leading his brother to. The panic room.  
  
A glimmer catches his eye, and he watches as a spindly, golden feather made of what seems like spiders silk glide its way through the air and onto his left shoulder. He picks it up, holding it between his forefinger and thumb.  
  
“What is it?” Sam says from over his shoulder, and Dean tilts his head sideways in surprise, unaware that Sam had been watching, too.  
  
“I dunno.” He twirls it in his fingers and watches the feathers spindly threads dance. “It’s awesome.”  
  
“No, I mean, what are you holding? There’s nothing there.”  
  
Dean turns around to face his brother.  
  
“You can’t see this? The crazy airy-fairy golden feather?” Sam shakes his head, staring at Dean with concerned eyes. Dean waves it in front of Sam’s face, like it’d help. Sam just shakes his head again.  
  
“Huh,” Dean says, pocketing it. Whatever it was, he didn’t feel like letting it go. He opens his mouth, and a lie slips out; “Let’s go find a bar.”  
  
He leaves the altar with Sam, completely unaware that behind them, a sea of golden feathers are scattered among blood and two empty vessels, coating the evidence of the apocalypse that never came to pass.

-

**1st July 2009**  
  
New Orleans, Louisiana  
  
Castiel lands in a cascading mess of trenchcoat and golden feathers. Feathers that only he can see.  
  
It’s not painful, the fall. He didn’t fall in the way that other angels had. His wasn’t choice – his was punishment. Degrading powers, having the constant buzz and sense of other angels fade from his mind, the feeling of losing everything… it was worse as a gradual process.  
  
He stays, hunched over, in the alleyway, clenches his fists into the grimy concrete, and thinks. Because he’s got nothing left now. It’s just him, alone, in a world of humans who he knows aren’t as pure as the Winchesters.  
  
 _Be human,_ his mind tells him.  _Hunt. Save people._  
  
He can do that. He can be human, and he can save people. As an angel, he could only watch. As a human, he can help. So he pushes himself up off of the ground and brushes off his knees. With a strong jaw, he leaves the dark alleyway.  
  
And walks right into a person.  
  
“Hey, watch it, asshole!” The burly man shouts, stumbling out of his way and hobbling drunkenly down the street. Castiel watches him and raises his eyes to the sky. He gives his Father a silent prayer – a prayer he hopes can go without being intercepted – and gathers his surroundings. It’s a city and despite the time, people are still wandering the streets, bags clutched in their hands. There are restaurants nearby, and though Castiel’s senses are now dull, he can smell the aroma of hot fat and frying meat.  
  
An uncomfortable bubbling arises in his stomach and he presses a hand to it. It’s no longer a borrowed stomach – it’s now his. And it’s empty.  
  
With a determined strut, he heads into a restaurant. It claims to be the king of burgers so he assumes it will be the most satisfying meal. He reaches into pocket and unties a wad of money. He’d long since prepared himself for his fall and he supposes taking money from a locked vault will be the first sin he would soon have to atone for.  
  
He orders a burger, as he had seen Dean once do, and seats himself into a cushiony cubicle, his mind whirring. He’s planning.  _How would the Winchesters do it? How do they cope?_  
  
Fake credit cards; a car; alcohol; medical supplies; weapons. Things he needed, and things he would get. He could do this. He could be human. And eventually, this gaping hole where his grace had once been would soon be filled. He bites hungrily into his burger, genuinely surprised at the explosions of flavour that sparkle along his tongue. It’s new and he likes it. He takes another bite.  
  
His eyes fall on the discarded newspaper in front of him. He turns it around, digging his fingers tighter into the soft bread of the burger.  
  
 _‘Mysterious death of parents. Child still missing.”_  
  
Castiel pops the last piece of burger into his mouth and wipes his hands on a napkin. _Changeling_ , he thinks. If there was one, there would be more.  
  
He leaves the cubicle and heads for the scene of the crime.

-

He’s in the den fighting the last remaining changeling. The air is humid with the stench of not-quite-human flesh, charred by the flames licking away at the only other creature. Castiel had gotten there before others could be produced.  
  
He’s unharmed so far, using his knowledge of evasion and fighting that had come naturally as an angel. But his aim is off and the changeling is diving and twirling around the flames being launched at it. He’s caught off guard and the young, blond-haired, blue-eyed changeling throws him through the air.  
  
The first time he feels pain as a human, it numbs him from tip to toe. He lies on the ground in a heap, eyes screwed shut, waiting for the disorientation to fade. It’s so vivid and harsh, this pain, when it’s not being filtered through his grace. The changeling is approaching him and he’s immobile, staring up at the creature he could have defeated with ease as an angel. He waits to die, because that’s all he can do now.  
  
The side of face begins to heat up and then scorching flames latch themselves onto the little girl. She goes up in a mess of embers and Castiel stares numbly at the body that collapses in front of him.  
  
“Funny. You don’t look like a newbie.”  
  
Castiel looks up, arm wrapped around his aching stomach, and stares at the young girl who emerges from the shadows, makeshift flamethrower in hand. Oh, she’s young. She’s too young.  
  
“I’m not,” Castiel replies, voice gravelly with pain. She walks forwards and holds out a hand. He takes it, even though he is far more likely to pull her to the ground than be able to use her as proper leverage. “You’re a hunter?”  
  
She nods and throws her flamethrower into the centre of the room.  
  
“Couple of years now, yeah. I stay in the general area, motel to motel, you know?”  
  
Castiel tilts his head. As an angel, he could have picked out little morsels of information from her appearance, but now he sees nothing but a young girl, dressed in a similar fashion to Dean, with hair too short to be feminine.  
  
“You’re very young,” Castiel says, though there’s no speculation behind his tone. The girl seems to notice that and is vaguely surprised. It was obviously common for her to receive scathing remarks about her age.  
  
“I turned twelve this year. But I’m not an idiot. I know how the world works,” Her words come out tense, but there’s an anger behind them not pointed at Castiel. She lifts one of Castiel’s arms and hauls it over her shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”  
  
They hobble out of the cluttered basement, and Castiel’s eyes stay focused on the side of this girls face. He feels lucky and he knows that if he were still an angel, this girl’s soul would be  _vibrant._


	2. Chapter 2

**5th July 2009**  
  
 **Sioux Falls, North Dakota**  
  
Sam’s out of the panic room and though he stares at Dean with wariness and guilt, Dean knows he’s forgiven. He knows; it should be him who has to forgive Sam. But it’s an impasse – they both know that they’re all they’ve got and forgiveness is something that just takes time.  
  
They’re at Bobby’s and they’re planning. They have a life ahead of them now. It’s the first time in four years they haven’t had the fate of the world resting on their shoulders and they’re lost.  
  
“I say we keep hunting,” Dean suggests from the couch, “Apple pie life? I just don’t think we’re cut out for it.”  
  
Sam nods. “It’d be nice, you know, but you’re right. I think we should keep saving people. Dad would want us to.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m not doing it for dad,” Dean says, putting his beer onto the coffee table a little too hard. Blue eyes flash into his mind, and he sits back, tucking his arms over his chest.  
  
There’s a silence in the room and Dean can almost hear Sam’s mind working. He doesn’t want to know what he’s said to send his brother into overdrive, but he’s certain he’s going to know sooner or later.  
  
“I’m sure he’s okay, Dean,” Sam eventually says.  
  
Dean sends him a funny look.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“You know who I’m talking about.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”  
  
“ _Cas._ I’m talking about Cas.”  
  
The name itself makes Dean go rigid. He knew, of course, he’d just wanted Sam to say it. It was like… it was like he wanted Cas to be brought up so he could have a good enough reason to think about him.  
  
“I’m not worried.”  
  
“Sure,” Sam stands up and heads to the kitchen to flip through the newspaper on the table. “You trust him as much as you trust me and Bobby. Cas made it onto ‘Dean Winchester’s List of Irreplaceable’s’ the moment he went to take on that archangel,” Sam sends him a weak smile. “Dean. You’re worried.”  
  
Dean shuffles uncomfortably and scratches the back of his neck.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am,” Dean presses a hand to his chest pocket, feeling the strange warmth radiating from the feather. “He had that  _look._ Like… Like the one dad gave me before…” He trails off.  
  
Sam carries the newspaper over to Bobby’s armchair and seats himself in it, holding it between his hands. He watches Dean, a worried crease between his eyebrows.  
  
“The same look you gave me after you sold your soul to bring me back,” Sam says. Dean looks up and meets his soft gaze, trying to squash down the horrible torrential churning in his stomach. There’s a blatant silence where the two think about what it means, and it stretches far beyond when they both come to the same conclusion. Dean’s not going to say it, so Sam does; “You think he’s dead?”  
  
Dean recoils, grimaces, and forces disbelief.  
  
“No. No. Come on man, this is  _Cas._ There’s gonna be some higher power up there that’s kicking all the other angels asses for what they’ve done, and Cas is probably sitting in the corner with a popsicle.”  
  
Sam staring at him with those large, watery puppy dog eyes and Dean knows it’s the look he gets when his fake enthusiasm is transparent.  
  
“Alright. Well, I think I’ve found a job. Sounds like a haunting in North Dakota just a couple of hours drive from here.” Sam gets up and throws the newspaper into the trash. “Come on. It’ll take your mind off things.”  
  
Dean doesn’t object to Sam’s assumption that he was over-thinking Cas’s departure, and gets up.  
  
“Ganking a few ghosts sounds like the perfect vacation.”

-

**1st July 2009**  
  
 **New Orleans, Louisiana**  
  
The girl takes Castiel to her home. Or rather, her sister’s home. It’s small, and Castiel is reminded of Bobby’s house the moment he enters. It’s filled with warmth and detail.  
  
“Jude?” An older woman storms out of a nearby door. She’s pretty, with long hair that tumbles down her shoulders in brown waves. Castiel supposes her features would be more beautiful if she didn’t look so angry, though they soften at the sight of him. Jude readjusts Castiel on her shoulders.  
  
“Yeah, I kinda found a lost puppy while I was out,”  
  
The woman moves forward without hesitation and latches Castiel’s other arm around her shoulders.  
  
“I told you not to go without me,” she scolds. Jude scoffs and turns away.  
  
“Fae, I’m not a child.”  
  
“Yes. You are.”  
  
“You’ve let me out on my own before. For  _days._ ”  
  
“That was when you knew what you were hunting. We had no idea how many changelings there were going to be.”  
  
“There were only two. She would have been capable of defeating them both,” Castiel cuts in, unaware that his comment seems to be biased. Fae’s grip tightens on his arm.  
  
“Okay, who is this guy? And why did you bring him home?” she says sternly, hauling Castiel onto their sofa with a sigh. Jude straightens up and rolls her shoulders.  
  
“His name’s Castiel. He got there before I did. Took one of the assholes out—“ Jude dodges a swipe from her sister who seems to disapprove of her language. “But got pretty beat by the other one.”  
  
Fae looks down at Castiel. Castiel can feel his injuries – a bruised chest and ankle. It’s not a lot, but for someone who’s just experiencing humanity, it’s more than enough.  
  
“You some sort of lightweight?” Fae asks, though her voice isn’t hostile. She seems concerned.  
  
“I’m adjusting to this vessel. Being human means my injuries don’t heal as fast.”  
  
There’s silence.  
  
“Right. Okay.” Fae turns to glare at her sister, who’s looking at Castiel with surprised fascination. “You hear that? He’s not used to being human. You brought a piece of supernatural crap into our house. Good job.”  
  
“I was—“ Castiel stops. He knew how the companionship between hunters was supposed to work and these two girls were the closest he will probably ever come to it. Even in Dean’s circumstances, the hunter had seemed reluctant to believe that Cas had been an angel. To tell an average human? He had been on Earth long enough to know that it would result in disbelief and claims that he was ‘crazy’. “I meant to say that it has been a while since I’ve been hunting. I’m not used to the pain.”  
  
Fae stares at him carefully, clearly not believing anything that’s coming out of his mouth. She seems to assume that he’s harmless, though.  
  
“Alright…” She trails off and when Castiel looks back at her, she’s heading toward the kitchen. His stomach rumbles and he’s reminded of the burger he had eaten hours before. Castiel jerks slightly when the couch on one side tips and he turns his head to see Jude flopped out on the coach next to him.  
  
“So, you gonna stay for long?” Jude says. Castiel opens his mouth to reply and then shuts it again to think. “Because we’ve been looking for a third wheel, you know? It’d be awesome if we had another guy around.”  
  
Castiel, having come up with a suitable response, goes to reply again. But he stops.  
  
“’Another guy’?” He stares between the two women in confusion and Fae’s watching him strangely from behind the kitchen counter. “I wasn’t aware you had another male in your group.”  
  
Jude’s staring at him in shock.  
  
“Dude. Me. I’m supposed to—How the hell did you know?”  
  
Castiel blinks at her. “Know what?”  
  
Jude throws her arms up.  
  
“That I’m a  _girl!_ ”  
  
Castiel’s a little dumbfounded by the hostility and frowns, unsure how to respond.  
  
“I apologise. I thought it was obvious.”  
  
Fae storms over, wooden spoon in her hand.  
  
“Yeah, not so obvious, big boy. No one’s ratted her out yet. How’d you do it?” She points the wooden spoon at him, like it could be threatening. Castiel’s frown deepens.  
  
“I told you. It was obvious.”  
  
There’s silence and Castiel’s pretty sure he’s blown it.  
  
“Alright.” She’s still wary of him, Castiel can tell, but she was allowing him to stay in her house. There was a certain level of trust between them now. The microwave beeps in the kitchen and Fae heads back over to it.  
  
“Hey, you hungry?” she calls. Castiel doesn’t realise she’s speaking to him until he receives a sharp dig in his side. Jude jerks her head into Fae’s direction, indicating that the question was directed towards him.  
  
“Yes,” he replies.  
  
Fae seems a little surprised at his honest response and elaborately spoons out a helping of casserole onto another plate.  
  
“Guess we need to get you a collar, pup.”

-

**6th July 2010**  
  
Castiel is there for a year. During his stay, he learns that the sisters’ mother has passed and that they have been searching for their dad for over a year. It’s information he receives by overhearing conversations not meant for him and by the sentimental objects the girls keep on them – a ring and a necklace.  
  
Castiel is a slow learner. Even after a year, he’s still trying to grasp the human niceties. But Fae and Jude help him, though Cas is fairly sure they don’t know they’re helping him. They go on hunts, they share night skies together, they play video games, they follow leads for the location of their father... Cas feels like he belongs to something special again. It’s not his garrison, but it’s close enough. Oh, but he misses the Winchesters. He misses them so much it hurts.

-

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**  
  
 **8th September 2009**  
  
It’s been about two months since Castiel tied up his feathers and handed himself over to the cloud surfers.  
  
Dean’s still waiting.  
  
They weren’t close, before Cas had left. And that was what had bothered him. It was the closest thing to a friendship that Dean had even gotten and he wanted to… explore it. Castiel was the first person he had begun to trust outside of the circle he’d drawn around himself since the age of eleven and he hadn’t even had the chance to experience what it felt like.  
  
“Dean?” Dean looks up in surprise and sees Sam standing in the doorway. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
“You didn’t hear me coming,” Sam says with a smile. “You sure you alright?”  
  
“We gonna have this talk every time we take a break? Do the words ‘I’m fine’ now mean ‘come talk to me about my feelings’?”  
  
“Well, whenever you get time to think, you sort of...” Sam waves in the air with his hand. “Zone out.”  
  
“I’ve got a lot to think about,” Dean retorts, heaving himself up off of Bobby’s porch. Even during the last hunt he had been on, his mind had wandered. He’d been backed up against the wall, ghostly fingertips digging into his throat, and he remembered that this was when Cas would show up. He’d show up and the creatures would know that he was an angel, they’d try to run, but Cas would reappear in their path and smite them until their creepy little asses burst into flames.  
  
“Have you...” Sam trails off, uneasily dropping his gaze to the floor. Dean waits and his chest tightens, like his body knows Sam is going to say something that’s going to give him a sucker punch to the gut. “Have you thought about it? About Cas? And the fact that he might be...”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean says stiffly and there’s something hostile and defeated about his tone. Sam presses no further and Dean leaves him on the porch, fisting his hands in his pockets.


	3. Chapter 3

**8th July 2010**  
  
New Orleans, Louisiana  
  
To think that he would ever be safe was foolish of Castiel.  
  
He didn’t refuse to love God’s creatures. He didn’t go into hiding and refuse to return to duty. He didn’t fall willingly because he knew that being a human was everything that an angel wasn’t.  
  
He stopped the apocalypse, screwed up Heaven’s plan, killed his brothers and sisters and ripped up the ending that had been laid out since the beginning of time. Falling wouldn’t be enough.  
  
He hadn’t stopped to consider this. He had thought that leaving the Winchesters and being powerless had been punishment enough. Clearly he was wrong.  
  
He’s still at the Cooper’s, donned with a clean suit and typical tan trench coat, thick stubble coating his jawline.  
  
“So,” Jude hands him a cool drink of orange juice with tiny ice cubes floating on the surface. “What’s your motivation?”  
  
Castiel watches her move over to the garden swing and sit down, staring at him with interested eyes.  
  
“Motivation?”  
  
“You know, every hunter has a reason they got into the biz. ‘Cept for those who just love killing things.”  
  
“I...” Castiel looks down at his drink and watches the ice cubes bob around. “I’m looking for purpose.”  
  
“Purpose?”  
  
“Defeating these creatures and saving the lives of others is all I can do. I have this idea that,” he smiles down at his hands, “If I save enough of them, I may be forgiven.”  
  
 Jude slides off of the swing slowly and seats herself next to him, her back rigid. She’s uncomfortable and possibly a little bit wary.  
  
“Forgiven for what?”  
  
Castiel raises his head to look at her and she’s watching him, tenderness and intelligence behind her young, brown eyes. It’s strange that the first person Castiel befriends as a human is so young when he himself is so old. Perhaps that was what he needed; someone who hadn’t lived long enough to be scarred by the evil in the world.  
  
And yet she was.  
  
There was that same haunted gleam lingering in her gaze. And hope. She wanted someone else to need forgiveness and that interested him.  
  
“I’ve... done things. My family has banished me and though I know what I did was right, it still feels...”  
  
“Wrong,” Jude cuts in and there’s an understanding smile tugging at her lips. Castiel feels a smile begin to twitch around his. He’s about to tell her that whatever wrongs she has done, he is sure they have been forgiven, but the floor beneath him starts to tremble.  
  
“What the…” Jude’s looking at the sky. Castiel knows what it is. He knows what’s coming and it’s coming fast, because the walls are shaking and there’s a ringing that’s getting sharper and harsher and it’s familiar, it’s something he feels like he should be able to understand, but it’s scrambled, like he’s hearing the remnants of an echo.  
  
“We need to go,” he says hurriedly, but Jude just turns around and stares at him dumbly. He feels a familiar dominance pumping through his veins. “Now!”  
  
She starts to move. She’s pulling a handgun out of her pocket and jumping to her feet. Castiel places the orange juice hurriedly onto the table, the liquid spilling over his hand and he tugs at her sleeve. It’s louder now and he’s fighting against the instinctive urge to raise his hands to his ears.  
  
“What is it?” Jude shouts over the rattling of the window panes and the deafening roar of an approaching  _open_  angel. Castiel’s scared. He’s worried for her safety, because an angel floating around out of its vessel was  _not_  a good sign.  
  
It was coming for him, but it’d get her too.  
  
He pulls harder on her sleeve and they’re stumbling down the stairs of the veranda, heading down a path. Castiel spots a shed and the ground beneath him starts to shudder violently.  
  
“In there,” he says breathlessly, low and commanding. Jude spares him a crazed look, before nodding and he tugs her into the shed, pushing over old guns and sharp objects. Castiel pulls away from her, slices his arm lightly with a nearby blade and begins to draw a small sigil on the wood.  
  
The rumbling halts and the weapons hanging from the walls stop moving. They tinkle, sending trickles of dust down from the ceiling.  
  
“What the hell…” Jude says, turning to look at Castiel, eyes still wild, “…was that?”  
  
Castiel clenches his jaw shut and rips off some material from a worn sheet. He wraps it around his bleeding arm, pulls a dirty duffel bag towards him.  
  
“I’m assuming it was something that wanted to harm me.” He puts a sawed-off shotgun into the bag and stares dumbly down at the weapon. He doesn’t know how to use it.  
  
“ _You?_ What did it want with you? Whatever ‘it’ was?” Jude asks, a little hysteric. Castiel stiffens and sighs.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He looks over his shoulder. “Now that they know you’re with me, they’ll hunt you too.”  
  
There’s a flash of fear in Jude’s eyes before it’s covered with more confusion and anger.  
  
“’They’? Who is ‘they?’ What aren’t you telling us? Why did a frickin’ blood doodle stop that… that...  _thing_  from attacking us? Huh?”  
  
“Answers will just mean more questions.” Castiel shoulders the now-full bag of weapons. “We need to wait before we leave. That sigil doesn’t last long. Tell your sister not to come back here. Now that they know she is associated with me, she’s in danger.”  
  
Jude seems unable to refuse his smooth orders and with one more irritated, curious glare, she picks her mobile out of her pocket and phones Fae. Their conversation is short, and Jude sighs when it ends.  
  
“Well, other than her being completely freaked out, she said she’s near Wyoming, so she’ll meet us there in a couple of days. She’s found a hunt over there.”  
  
Castiel nods.  
  
“Good. She should be safe.”  
  
Jude’s staring at him with these interested – and somewhat wary – eyes now.  
  
“And us? What are we gonna do?”  
  
Castiel doesn’t know. If he had been an angel, he’d carve sigils into her ribs to keep her safe. He’d fly her to Bobby’s, tell him to look after her. He’d go talk to Dean, tell him what had happened. He’d listen to Sam’s advice and silently enjoy Dean’s berating for how foolish he’d been.  
  
But he couldn’t do that now. He had a wad of money in his pocket, a bag full of guns he couldn’t use, he hurt and he was tired.  
  
“We meet back up with your sister. Then…”  _We’ll look for the Winchesters._ He wants to say it, but he can’t. The image he’d imprinted – the brothers clutching each other, laughing – is still alive in his mind and he just  _can’t_. “Then, we’ll make it up as we go.”

-

**10th July 2010**  
  
Manhattan, Kansas  
  
When Fae gets to Riverton, her mind has conjured up a thousand different things that could have happened to Jude and Castiel. Her fingers are itching to pick up the phone and call them, but the pup had insisted that she stop calling, as ‘they’ would be able to track her. He still had yet to define ‘they’ and she was twitchy with the urge to find out.  
  
She drops her bags onto the bed with a sigh, rubbing a hand over her aching shoulder. She’d driven for hours, and at such short notice too. She was tired, and with such little provisions, she needed to head out almost immediately to stock up.  
  
But just as she’s leaving the motel room, she stops.  
  
The floor starts to tremble, the doorknob begins to rattle and she doesn’t hesitate. She’s across the room, slicing her arm and painting the symbol that Castiel described to her on the wall with shaking fingers. As she joins the two ends of the circle up, she hopes it’s right, because there’s a shrill ringing now and there’s this overwhelming aura of strength and purity that’s just a little too mysterious for her.  
  
It’s right. The buzzing stops and it’s muffled, as though she’s hearing it through a bubble.  
  
She waits for her heartbeat to return to normal and then slumps down on her bed. She knew something big was up and it had something to do with the puppy that Jude had dragged home with her. Information was being withheld and she didn’t like it.  
  
But there was nothing she could do.

-

**10th July 2010**  
  
Kentucky, Lexington  
  
“Okay, we need to pull over,” Jude’s voice cuts through the silence of the car and Castiel jerks in his seat, blinking out the tiredness in his eyes.  
  
“I’m fine,” he protests, gripping the wheel tighter. It was simple mechanics, really, the process of driving. He had always thought it looked easy when Dean was behind the wheel and he was right.  
  
“Oh no, you are  _not_  fine. You’ve swerved over that line too many times for it to be safe. We’re pulling over.” Jude leans across and flicks the indicator. With a defeated glance, Castiel pulls into a parking lot of the roadside motel they had been driving past and parks.  
  
Of course, Dean had never made it clear to him just how tiring it was to drive. All the times Dean had snapped at Castiel during intense conversations in the front of the Impala suddenly made sense.  
  
“How much longer are we gonna be on the road?” Jude asks after they’ve checked into their room. She drops heavily onto her bed and throws an arm over her eyes, body limp with weariness.  
  
“As long as we need to be.” Castiel’s surprised at the exhaustion of his tone and he drops onto his own bed, gazing around the run down motel room with an interest he’d never had before. When he had travelled with the Winchesters, the state of the motel rooms they stayed in had never been a matter of importance, as he was not the once using the facilities. However, now, as he was the one sleeping in the beds and using the bathroom, it seemed like something he should be thinking about.  
  
Their room was small but clean, with plain white walls, gray carpet and the smell of cheap polish in the air. Little things that Castiel wouldn’t have picked up on originally were suddenly things he found important: the whirring of the cars that passed; the creaking of the walls; the lopsided picture on the wall opposite him.  
  
At some point during the examination of the room, Castiel falls asleep. He dreams of hellfire and ice and green eyes.

-

**11th October 2009**  
  
South Dakota, Rapid City  
  
Dean Winchester’s eyes lurch open, and he stares into the darkness of the motel room. There’s soft, untroubled breathing coming from Sam’s bed and Dean evens his own breath out to match it.  
  
It was the same dream. Roaring fires and bright ice, heat and white frost latching onto parts of his body, shrill noises and burning light and  _goodness_  amongst the screams and squelches of tearing flesh.  
  
His shoulder throbs and to soothe it, he raises a sweaty palm and presses his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Beneath it lies the handprint.  
  
It’s a horrid memory and brings back the erratic flapping of wings he had heard so often. A reminder of something he’d never got to start.  
  
Thunder rolls above him and he puts his head in his hands.  
  
He knew it, now. It had been months since Castiel had left and when you were a hunter, after a couple of  _days_  you were supposed to assume the worst.  
  
Castiel was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**12th July 2010  
  
Riverton, Wyoming**  
  
“Thank you.” Fae draws away from the crying witness and sighs. She’d got nothing. There were no solid leads. There was a werewolf running around town and she had no idea who, or where, it was.  
  
Thunder rumbles overheard and Fae watches as rain begins to cascade down from the Heavens.  
  
Cursing, she pulls her suit jacket up around her head and runs for cover. Once she’s safely underneath the shelter of a nearby Chinese takeaway store, she pulls out her mobile to call Jude. It’d been a few days and they still hadn’t reached Riverton, nor contacted her.  
  
 _Do not phone unless it is completely necessary._ Castiel’s firm reminder forces her to shove the mobile back into her pocket. Gritting her teeth, she scans her surroundings, watching as people begin to flee from the hard droplets slapping against their heads.  
  
That’s when she spots him. A young boy with his hood up, face shrouded by a shadow, arms trembling – not with cold, but with fear. It’s in his eyes, and when a businessman runs by, newspaper above his head, his pupils enlarge and flash with hunger. It’s him. Right underneath her nose and right next to the crime scene.  
  
The boy’s gaze darts around, unsettled, and he rolls his shoulders back before setting off into the rain, puddles lapping at the bottoms of his trousers. Fae sets out to follow him.

-

**12th July 2010  
  
Manhattan, Kansas**  
  
It’s thundering, but it’s distant. There’s no rain, just dry forest. Leaves crunch beneath his feet when he readjusts his footing, and he fires another round. The shotgun kicks back into his shoulder a little, but this time it’s sturdy and the target has an accurate splattering of holes in it.  
  
“You got it.” Jude claps him on the back and takes the shotgun away, popping out the bullets. “I’d say you’re pretty equipped for...” She tightens her grip on the barrel and the cheerful jest in her voice drops. “For whatever it is that’s hunting us.”  
  
Castiel stares at the back of her head guiltily and watches her walk around the edge of their protective circle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ward off the angel when it was vessel-less. It was also their last batch of oil.  
  
“When are you gonna tell us, huh?” she calls over irritably, throwing the shotgun through the air. It tumbles across the ground and comes to a halt beside the fire. “It’s been days and you’ve not said a word.”  
  
With an irritated sigh, Castiel turns away, looking out into the thick darkness of the forest. It was typical, really, that his first friend as a human turned out to be  _so much like Dean_. Jude had his stubbornness, his suppressed emotions and she had this… obsession, almost. She didn’t want to be worried about; she wanted to be the one responsible. The one who protected instead of the one that needed protecting.  
  
It was painfully similar.  
  
“I can’t,” Castiel mutters into the ground, hands twiddling with the buttons on Jimmy’s trenchcoat –  _his_  trenchcoat.  
  
“Right. Okay. Whatever,” Jude replies haughtily, and she doesn’t sound disappointed. Like she didn’t expect answers. And it  _hurts_  because it’s exactly what Dean used to do. She seats herself in front of the fire and her expression is closed off, brooding. Castiel makes his way over, ground crackling beneath his feet, seats himself in front of the flames. Warmth floods his face and a brief flash of the scorching flames in Hell dances in front of his eyes.  
  
It disappears.  
  
“Alright then. No answers on the mysterious monster,” she says to herself, though it’s pointed at Castiel. She prods the fire with a stick. “So, what’s your story then? You’ve been sticking around with us for a while and we never asked.”  
  
Castiel picks up a stick and moves around the embers, unsure of how he should answer. Truth? Would the truth be okay?  
  
“I… had to leave someone,” he carefully chooses his words. “I had to leave behind two very special people. Their lives were ruined because of my family and I was just a reminder of what could have happened. It was for the best.”  
  
The flames sputter.  
  
“You’re saying they don’t know you’re alive?” Jude asks, a little incredulously. It seems she already knows the answer, but doesn’t quite want it to be true. Castiel doesn’t understand.  
  
“No. By now, they would have assumed the worst.”  
  
“That’s bullshit,” she says loudly, and Castiel is surprised by her language and response. “Were you close?”  
  
Castiel’s confused by the sudden question and his mouth opens and closes. Jude moves closer. “Were you  _close_?” She asks, crossly and insistent.  
  
“Yes. We were very close. I protected them and they protected me,” Castiel replies hurriedly. Jude leans back and there’s disapproval in her eyes. She’s disappointed.  
  
“You know they’re mourning right now, right? Do you have idea what you’ve probably done to them? You think what your family did changes what they think about you?” Jude’s bright, and angry, and Castiel can only watch dumbly. She’s biting down on her lip now, like she’s trying to trap her words, but they continue to tumble out, more quiet and suppressed. “Our dad abandoned us. We have no idea where he is, or why he’s missing. He just left. And you’ve just done exactly the same to those two people who you think are special. That was a wrong move.”  
  
Castiel’s lips tighten and he stares down at the ground, at the leather shoes that aren’t his.  
  
“You don’t understand,” he mutters. “I can’t go back. The last time they saw me, I had strength and power. I could protect them. If they see what I’ve become… They’ll blame themselves.”  
  
“So you pretend to be dead because you’re ashamed?”  
  
Castiel watches a leaf dance across the ground and there’s a tiny smile twitching around his lips. She was a lot like Dean. Too much like Dean.  
  
“Who’s Dean?” Castiel looks up suddenly and Jude’s staring interestingly at him. “You said I was like Dean. Is that the person you left?”  
  
He hadn’t even realised he’d been speaking out loud – that was obviously another human trait that he appeared to have picked up on. He nods and entwines his hands together in his lap, leaning closer to the fire.  
  
“Yes. The other was Sam. They were brothers and much like you, they have no mother or father. Dean was… He was impossible.” Castiel smiles at the fire and lifts his head to the sky. It soothes him, that he’s sharing the same sky as them. “He was stubborn and persistent with a soul brighter than the sun. And Sam… Sam was lost. He wanted to do so much for the world, he took risks that tore him apart. And he has so much faith in his brother; in others; in humanity.” The sky blurs, and Castiel closes his eyes. “I miss them.”  
  
Jude’s calm now, and there must be something in Castiel’s voice, because she’s watching him with watery eyes and a soft smile.  
  
“You should find them,” she says softly. Castiel opens his eyes and the water that had welled in them has disappeared. He stares at her and he’s wondering. Would it be okay? Would he really get to see the Winchesters again? He shakes his head.  
  
“No. I can’t. They can’t see me like this.” He tips his head forward. “I would be the ‘third wheel’, as they say.”  
  
“You’re wrong.” Castiel looks up. Jude is smiling and she throws her stick into the trees. The darkness swallows it. “Ever heard of The Three Musketeers? The Golden Trio? The Fellowship of the Ring?” Surprisingly, the references don’t fly over Castiel’s head and he has to smile, because it was Dean that taught him. Jude stands up. “The more the merrier, right?”  
  
Castiel stares up at her and his chest constricts, because Jude’s looking down at him with hope and excitement. She wants to find them for him, Castiel knows, and her expression is just… too much. It’s how the Winchesters had looked at him, when he had switched sides, and they’d been given that tiny spark of hope.  
  
He says nothing to her. Though now, beneath all of his guilt and promises, he feels like he hasn’t seen the last of Sam and Dean.

-

**13th July 2010  
  
Riverton, Wyoming**  
  
It’s a trap.  _Of course it’s a trap,_ Fae thinks. Her head’s screwed on backwards – her sister’s out there with a lost puppy and there’s no one else around to protect them, so she’s worried and her mind is scrambled.  
  
The boy contorts and erupts into a body of fur and she watches from the corner, silver bullet and pistol ready. But he’s smelt her and his head snaps round, piercing yellow eyes aimed directly at her. She doesn’t even have time to lift her arms. The gun’s smacked out of her hands and the werewolf slashes at her. The sharp claws catch her arm, but she manages to break free before more damage can be done. She’s unfocussed and now she’s injured. Her pistol’s too far and the werewolf is stepping closer and closer and—  
  
There’s a gunshot, and the werewolf collapses to the left of her. She watches the fur withdraw back into the skin of the now-dead boy, a hand pressed to her wound. There’s blood seeping out of his back.  
  
“Come on,” a gruff voice calls out from the other end of the alleyway. There are two silhouettes and they look big. One of them is holding a gun. “Someone would have heard that.”  
  
She nods, bends down to pick up her pistol, and then pulls back her hand. She straightens, lifts her chin up, and walks boldly out to meet them.

-

  
“You okay?” Dean asks the woman once they’re back the motel room. The gash in her arm is pretty deep, but she seems to be paying it no attention.  
  
“I’m fine. I had it, you know. You didn’t have to save me,” she replies haughtily, twisting the gun around in her grip. Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and Sam lets out a snort beside him. She glares at them both. “You think I’m a joke?”  
  
“No, you’re batshit crazy. Two guys just save your life and the first thing you do is act like it’s no big deal?”  
  
“Well, we’re all hunters here. It’s our job to save people. I don’t see why we need to kiss ass for saving each other.”  
  
“Wow,” Dean says, because Jesus fucking Christ, this woman was a handful. She’s still glaring at them, hostility and wildness in her eyes.  
  
“You gonna get me a first aid kit, or do you want me to bleed all over your sheets? Because you know, I’m okay with that.”  
  
Dean doesn’t know how to respond. He starts to move, limbs jerky. As he passes Sam, he shares a look with him.  
  
“She’s like someone’s sour grandma.”  
  
“I heard that,” she says from the bed, though she doesn’t seem to be insulted. In an act of retaliation, Dean throws the first aid kit at her, but she catches it swiftly with her uninjured arm.  
  
“What’s your name?” Sam asks in his ‘I’m-friendly-don’t-hurt-me’ tone. She stares at him for a while, almost as though she’s thinking of a way to retort offensively, but then her gaze softens.  _No one is immune to Sam’s face, god damnit._  
  
“Fae,” she says. “Fae Cooper.”  
  
“I’m Sam,” Sam replies with a smile. “This is Dean.”  
  
And then something completely unexpected happens. There’s recognition, and curiosity, and her mouth opens and closes, like she’s unsure about whether or not to ask what it is she seems to be thinking.  
  
“You…” She swallows. “What’s your surname?”  
  
Dean and Sam share a glance, and Dean replies before Sam can.  
  
“Winchester.”  
  
There’s no doubt about it now; she knows them. She must have heard of them. There’s a flurry of emotions crossing over her face and she lets out a bitter laugh.  
  
“Well fancy that,” Fae smiles sourly up at them. “Ellen told me all about you.”  
  
Dean’s stomach hits rock bottom and he attempts to cover his panic.  
  
“You know Ellen?”  
  
“Yeah. And she sure knows you.” Fae knows something and she knows that the curiosity is killing Dean. Sam steps in.  
  
“How much did she tell you?”  
  
Again, Fae goes to say something horrible and arrogant, but the moment she looks at Sam, it seems to dissipate. Her expression falls and she starts to nervously twiddle with the bandage she’s taken out of the first aid kit.  
  
“Not much. To be honest, she talked about you a lot, but I always felt like there was more to you than she made out, you know? She let slip once…” She hesitates and it almost looks like she’s regretting having ever brought it up. “She said you’d let loose thousands of demons. Not with those words exactly, but… She talks about you like you’re heroes.”  
  
Dean relaxes and he actually hurts a little. Ellen was always so strong for him and Sam, but to think that she talked about them like they were  _heroes_ … It was a little baffling. In a good way.  
  
“We…” Sam seats himself down next to her and she doesn’t seem disconcerted by it. Sam takes the bandage and starts patching her up. “Ellen’s right. We did. And you’re right. There is more to it. But it’s a story we don’t like telling.”  
  
Fae watches Sam’s face as he rolls the bandage around her upper arm, like she’s trying to decipher him.  
  
“Whatever,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite. There’s a heavy silence as Sam finishes patching up her gash.  
  
“Do you have a hunting partner we can phone?” Sam asks, packing away all of the medical supplies. Fae analyses his work and tests the functionality of her arm.  
  
“I’d say my sister, but she’s a little occupied. Just waiting on her, I guess.” She lowers her head and picks at a fraying thread on her tight jeans.  
  
“Well—“ Sam cuts himself off when he sees Dean’s expression. Dean’s trying to signal ‘no’, but Sam ignores him. “You can hang with us for a while until she can get here.”  
  
Fae looks up and she’s hiding the hope that Dean only catches a glimpse of.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
Sam smiles and Dean curses under his breath, because he knows that look. Sam’s hooked.  
  
“Yeah, it’s cool. There’s a pack of wolves we’ve got to hunt; that guy was only one of them. You can stay here in our motel room, just to be safe.”  
  
Fae gets to her feet and smiles warmly at him. “Thanks.”  
  
She glares at Dean before she leaves. Once the door is closed, Dean folds his arm and stares at Sam disapprovingly.  
  
Sam pretends not to notice him, but he eventually caves.  
  
“What?”  
  
“’Just to be safe?’ Dude, that chick is a firecracker. Totally not your type. Don’t even go there.”  
  
“Go where? I’m helping her, Dean.”  
  
“Helping her.” Dean snorts with disbelief. “Sure.”  
  
Sam doesn’t argue and instead, starts to pull out the sofa bed. Dean’s feeling icy, though he knows he should be happy. Sam’s found a potential wife and Dean can’t deny that they had chemistry, even though it’d been hardly an hour since they’d met. It just meant that Sam was one step closer to finally getting that apple pie lie that he’d always wanted and that meant Dean would be left alone.  
  
For good this time.

-

**13th July 2010  
  
New Mexico, Albuquerque**  
  
“What are you?”  
  
Castiel and Jude are throwing their bags into the back of a stolen car when she asks the question Castiel had least expected to hear. At first he thinks he misheard, so he says nothing.  
  
“Come on, Castiel. What are you?”  
  
He shuts the trunk and walks around to the driver’s seat.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, ducking down into the car.  
  
Jude snorts and follows him, slamming the door a little forcefully behind her.  
  
“Oh, you don’t know? Really?” She taps her foot on the floor when Castiel starts the engine and he can almost hear the inward argument she’s having with herself. What had he done to make her suspicious? As far as he knew, everything he had done so far had been human and had given away nothing.  
  
“You eat food like you’ve never done it before.” Castiel looks up in surprise, wondering if he had once again spoken out loud. Jude’s staring at her feet. “You cut yourself shaving like a guy whose only just been given a razor, and you have one set of clothes a-and,” She stammers over her words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible, “the label on your shirt says ‘Jimmy Novak’; you’re being hunted by some supernatural creature I’ve never seen before, and you say things in your sleep in a language I’ve never heard.” She glares at him. “That’s not normal.”  
  
Castiel stares at her carefully, and again, he’s astounded by the intelligence of a girl so young. And, he decides, he can trust her. It takes a while and the silence is choking, but he finally plucks up the courage to speak.  
  
“I haven’t always been human,” he says over the rumble of the engine. Jude’s face falls, surprised at his openness. He grips the wheel and stares at the hands that aren’t really his. “I took over this body with the owner’s consent and it resulted in the death of his family and the disappearance of his soul. I was punished for certain actions that I took and was forced to join humanity. It seems that it wasn’t punishment enough – I’m still being hunted.”  
  
When he looks at Jude, there’s no fear. Just intrigue and hunger for knowledge. And it’s a look he’d seen before – in Sam.  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question, but thank you,” she replies, and smiles. It falls suddenly. “You’re not a demon, are you?”  
  
There’s a dread behind her tone that seems to be the repercussions of something personal, rather than general fear. It’s interesting, but Castiel doesn’t think to ask her. Instead, he smiles. “No, I’m not a demon.”  
  
She seems to believe him. Nodding, she turns and puts her belt on.  
  
“Good. As long as you’re not a demon, I don’t care what you are.”  
  
Castiel turns away and pulls off of the side of the road, a warm happiness blooming in his chest. He’d gained more of her trust. And that meant a lot to him.

-

**15th July 2010  
  
Riverton, Wyoming**  
  
Dean felt like the third wheel.  
  
Fae hadn’t left Sam’s side. Dean had tried to be nice, he had, but she just treated him like an irritating little brother.  
  
“I’ve got a hunt,” Fae waves a newspaper in front of his face, causing him to take a step backwards. He rolls his shoulders, uncomfortable at his lack of composure.  
  
“In the area?”  
  
“Of course, dumbass. This little town is getting a lot of supernatural attention.” She moves away, and rests a soft hand on Sam’s shoulder. He turns around, giving her a warm smile before taking the paper. Dean rolls his eyes.  
  
“Sounds like demons,” Sam says, scanning the article quickly. “How about it Dean?”  
  
“Whatever. You two lovesick puppies go deal with it.”  
  
Sam has the decency to look a little abashed, but Fae just flips Dean off.  
  
“It’s pretty big. We’re gonna need more than just the three of us,” Sam says.  
  
“How long do you think we can put it off?” Fae asks, the tone of her voice suggesting that she had an idea. There’s a brief moment of silence as Sam thinks about it. Dean just slumps down onto the sofa, beer in hand, and ignores them.  
  
“A couple of days, maybe? Why?”  
  
“My sister and the pup. They could help us out.”  
  
Sam nods.  
  
“Alright.”

-

**15th July 2010  
  
Utah, Logan**  
  
Jude laughs and kicks Castiel in the knee under the table. Castiel hides a smile of his own.  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
“The women were very confused. I didn’t know that what I had done was considered strange, so I was very casual about the whole situation.”  
  
She snorts back another laugh and shakes her head.  
  
“You just walked out of the cubicle and washed your hands with that expression?” She points at his face, which is completely blank. It changes to one of amusement and Castiel lets out a breathless laugh.  
  
“Yes. I was very surprised when they started to yell at me.”  
  
“Didn’t you read the sign? You couldn’t tell it was the women’s toilets?”  
  
“I’d barely been human for a day. It’s odd, to divide rooms like that.” Castiel’s faking his naivety, because he understands _now._ Jude knows and laughs again.  
  
They’re in a diner, just hours away from their final destination. Fae had texted them and asked them to meet her. She needed help with a hunt and Castiel had decided that they’d left a trail long enough for Fae not to be in danger.  
  
Jude picks at the bread on her plate with her fingers.  
  
“This whole leaving a trail thing… how does it work?”  
  
Castiel’s suddenly watching her carefully. She’s still trying to figure out what it is they’re running from and she’s hoping Castiel’s explanation will provide some new answers. The past few days had been filled with laughter – mainly on her end – and Castiel’s stories. She loved them. He told them like he... like he could remember each thing, with vivid detail.  
  
During their escapade, she’d gathered a bit more information, but it wasn’t enough. Castiel was still closed off.  
  
“The creature that’s chasing us…” He trails off, and fiddles with his napkin. “It takes a while to locate a person at the right place and year.” Jude has to close her mouth, because did he just say ‘year’? “When it locates us in one place, we will be in another.”  
  
She nods.  _Still at square one._  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She eats her last mouthful of bread and signals the waitress for the cheque. When she looks back at Castiel, he’s smiling at a family seated in a nearby cubicle. They’re laughing, and playing with a newborn child that’s smiling up at them with new, bright eyes and a toothless mouth.  
  
“Hey, Castiel?” Castiel looks at her. “I don’t know what you were before and what you’re missing, but I know this.” She grins. “You make a pretty awesome human.”

-

  
**15th July 2010  
  
Wyoming, Riverton**  
  
The air is humid and there’s no wind.  
  
They’re parked up on the outskirts of the town, Dean leaning against the Impala and Sam fused to Fae’s side on the hood.  
  
“You said they’d be here,” Dean snaps irritably, readjusting his footing. He didn’t want this. He wanted to kick back in the motel with Sam, share a beer, watch the game. Not stand on the side of some abandoned road, waiting for two people who may or may not turn up.  
  
“Clam it, jackass, they’ll be here,” Fae throws over her shoulder. Dean can’t seem to find a retort and grinds his teeth together. He rubs at his chest. There’s something there and it’s burning. Was it a rash?  
  
As time stretches out, it gets worse, and worse, until he gives in and has to tear his jacket off.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“It’s  _burning_.” He throws his jacket on the floor, a translucent wall of dust pluming around it, and stares. He’s still burning. “Damnit.” He pulls on the collar of his t-shirt to look down at his bare chest and sucks in a breath.  
  
“You really aren’t that patient, are you?” Fae says jokingly, though there’s an edge of concern to her tone, because Dean looks worried. He looks really worried. Sam and Fae move closer, curious.  
  
He pulls on the cord around on his neck and on the end of it is the golden feather.  
  
It’s bright, illuminating Dean’s face, and it’s  _dazzling._ He swallows and uses his other finger to brush through the feathers. The heat is pleasant now and Dean keeps running his fingers through it, because it’s also emanating a feeling of familiarity.  
  
“He’s totally lost it,” Fae whispers to Sam, who’s watching him with a crease between his brow.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“It’s the feather,” Dean spares him a glance. “You can’t see it,” he says, and it’s not a question.  
  
“See what?” Sam says slowly. Dean rolls his eyes.  
  
“Come on, Sam, trust me on this. I’m not crazy.”  
  
Dean must have said something, because Sam’s not looking at him like he expects Dean to start dribbling on his own shirt. Fae still looks unconvinced, but Dean doesn’t give two shits about her.  
  
He’s about to explain when headlights appear in the distance. There’s a car approaching. They all rise to their feet and watch the run-down, clearly-stolen vehicle rumble over the gravel. The handbrake creaks, there’s a click, and then two people clamber out of it, headlights still blaring. The first person to step into the light is a young boy and Dean’s breath catches because  _he’s too young. Too young to be a hunter._  
  
“That’s your sister?” Sam asks, and Dean’s eyebrows shoot up.  
  
“Sister? I thought it was a dude,”  
  
“That’s kinda the idea,” Fae smirks and then the ‘girl’ is suddenly walking faster. She runs forwards and throws herself into her sister’s arms, grinning. Fae strokes her hair.  
  
“Did the pup keep you safe?”  
  
Jude pulls back and clears her throat, a little embarrassed by her actions. She nods sternly, though a smile still twitches around her lips.  
  
“Did a better job than you.” She grins and then laughs when Fae punches her on the arm.  
  
Dean and Sam watch the other figure in the darkness, the feather on the end of the necklace in Dean’s hand burning hot, and Dean’s heart catches in his throat because  _no, it can’t be. It’s not…_  
  
Fae grins at Sam and Dean, oblivious to their disbelief.  
  
“Sam, Dean. This is—“  
  
“Cas?”


	5. Chapter 5

**15th July 2010**  
  
Fae blinks, her smile fading from her face. It’s now that she realises how wrecked Sam and Dean look and Castiel looks equally pained.  
  
“You… You know each other?”  
  
Neither of them responds. But Sam’s the first one to move and he’s storming forward, pulling Castiel into his arms. Castiel’s eyes are bright and watery and he closes them, wrapping his arms tighter around Sam.  
  
“Sam,” he breathes with a relief that’s almost tangible.  
  
Dean’s watching. He doesn’t… He can’t. He’d  _mourned_. God damnit, he’d been so filled with grief and Cas had been trailing along with a couple of women this whole time? He wasn’t even  _dead._  
  
It’s like Cas reads his thoughts, because he releases Sam and stares at Dean with these eyes that are trying to apologise. Fae and Jude are quiet, watching in awe as a reunion they hadn’t expected happens in front of them. Dean’s frowning, his jaw tense, and he’s so fucking angry but relieved at the same time. He doesn’t know what to do, and it’s making his stomach churn and heart beat and eyes water.  
  
He walks forwards quickly, and he’s all up in Castiel’s personal space, eyes fluttering as he breathes him in. He smells the same, and the same warmth oozes off of him. He scans Castiel’s face, which looks both awed and afraid. He gives him a once over.  
  
Cas’s hair is longer, fluffier. It’s a harsh reminder of their first meeting, since it’s ruffled and winded. It looks... good. The strands are combed over, brushing over Cas’s left temple and it makes his eyes look larger. They’re sadder, though, and tired. The nicks and cuts along his jawline makes Dean almost want to smile, because he can imagine Cas shaving in a motel mirror, cursing, getting frustrated. The trenchcoat and suit look a little worn, but no less than usual. They’ve been washed.  
  
It’s all these little things that Dean picks up. The chipped fingernails; the smudge of dirt on Cas’s nose; the scratches on his neck; the shaving; the muddy marks on his trousers... He knows what it means.  
  
Cas is human.  
  
Dean launches himself forward, and he’s hugging Cas, fingers digging into the trenchcoat and nose finding the crook of his neck. He screws his eyes shut and absorbs what he’d never thought he’d get again; the smell of ash and lingering aftershave, the solidness and comfort of knowing that Cas was nearby and  _safe_. His arms tighten and he breathes in deeply, clenches his teeth together when Castiel’s arms come up to pull him closer. It’s not a manly hug by any means.  
  
“Dean.” At the sound of Cas’s voice, Dean jerks away violently and greedily sucks in the hurt that flickers across Castiel’s expression. His rage surges up into a pliable wave and jolts through his arm and he doesn’t know why he does it, but he throws his fist at Cas’s face and Cas stumbles backwards as his knuckles connect with his jawbone. He doesn’t have time to regain his balance – Dean is hugging him again, arms tucked under his, forehead pressed to his shoulder.  
  
“You son of a bitch,” his voice cracks and his lips brush against Castiel’s skin. He absolutely refuses to let go.  
  
“Well,” he hears Fae say behind him. “You guys have some explaining to do.”

-

**15th July 2010**  
  
They’re back at the motel room, Jude and Castiel on the sofa, Fae and Sam opposite them on the bed and Dean in the kitchen, casually throwing back shot after shot of whiskey like he hadn’t totally lost it only a few hours earlier.  
  
They’re discussing things and Dean pretends that every time he overhears the word ‘human’, it doesn’t send an aggressive stab of grief to his heart. He knows Cas is human and he knows it’s because of him. Because he asked him to rebel, he asked him to help him and now he’s human and powerless and ashamed and it’s  _all his fault._  
  
“Wait,” Jude says mid-conversation, “Fae, you said their names are Sam and Dean Winchester, right? The guys Ellen talks about?”  
  
Fae nods, confused.  
  
There’s silence as everyone waits for her to elaborate and even Dean’s a little interested. He turns round in his chair to look at her, eyebrows raised.  
  
Jude looks at Cas, whose head is actually dipped with what looks like embarrassment.  
  
“ _The_  Sam and Dean?” she whispers to him, though the entire room can hear her hushed words. Castiel nods and when he looks up, his eyes connect with Dean’s. Dean shifts his gaze to Sam, grimacing. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept the fact that Castiel was still alive, not after he’d marked him as dead.  
  
“He talks about you like you’re a couple of angels,” Jude laughs and pokes Cas when Cas looks at her with an expression that says ‘don’t’. Dean watches their interactions and something festers in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable and makes him want to throw his glass at the wall and make a scene. Sam snorts at the irony, though looks at Castiel with friendly eyes.  
  
“Angels? You sure?”  
  
“Angels are dicks,” Dean pipes up from the kitchen and everyone turns to him in surprise. What, had they forgotten his existence? Was he that unimportant?  
  
The blank expressions on Fae and Jude’s faces aren’t what Dean was expecting.  
  
“Woah, hold up.” Dean turns around further in his chair and tries to push down the spite that gurgles in his gut, but he can’t help it. “He didn’t tell you?” Dean lets out a bitter laugh. “That he was—“  
  
“Dean—“ Cas attempts to interrupt.  
  
“—An angel?”  
  
There’s silence and then laughter. It’s Jude, and then Fae, whose laugh is less amusement and more unease.  
  
“Angels? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She scoffs and turns to Cas. His head is dipped and his fingers pluck at the ends of his trenchcoat. “I figured he wasn’t human, but that’s going a little too far.”  
  
Dean feels a sick sense of victory at Castiel’s discomfort and smirks at Sam, who’s giving him his ‘I-am-disappointed-in-you-and-you-should-be-too’ expression.  
  
“Oh, I’m not lying. Him and his douchebag family tried wrecking the world, and now it looks like they’ve thrown his ass into the gutter—“  
  
“Dean!” Sam exclaims in horror, but Cas is rigid now, no longer ashamed. His shoulders are trembling, his head sunk lower, his fingers clenched. He surprises everyone when he hurls himself off of the sofa and pulls Dean up by the lapels of his jacket, shoving him violently against the wall. Jude cups her mouth with her hands behind them, both in shock that Cas could get so  _angry_  and confused about whether or not she should break them up.  
  
“Have you forgotten,” Cas hisses, words scattering and unrestrained, “who broke the first seal, Dean?”  
  
Dean’s shivering, but not from fear, or anger. It’s the familiarity, the power,  _Cas_  that sends his gut plummeting to the floor, because he’s missed this. He’s missed this surge of strength that Castiel seemed to lack since his miraculous recovery.  
  
“Okay,” Dean responds, dejected. He’d hit below the belt, so it was only fair that Cas did, too.  
  
Cas steps back, steely gaze on Dean. Dean glares back. They’re hostile and aggressive, but they want to take back their words.  
  
“Do your zippers up, boys,” Fae steps between them, pressing a hand to both of their chests. Jude’s moved up behind Cas and pressed a soothing hand to his elbow and  _it works._ Dean watches the ‘angel’ relax, tension evaporated, and turn around to give her a warm smile. It makes Dean’s stomach burn and his hand subconsciously goes to the hot feather in his pocket.  
  
“We got a hunt to do, so if we’re finished tryin’ to confuse the hell outta me and Jude...” Fae nods at the door. “We can talk about this later.”  
  
Dean’s half way out of it before he realises he’d been obeying without a fight. He looks over his shoulder and sees a sawed-off shotgun being placed in Cas’s hands.  
  
“Woah, woah,” Dean points at it. “Can he even use that?”  
  
“I’m not incompetent, Dean,” Cas says, but Dean ignores him.  
  
“Probably a better shot than you, girlpants.” Fae hits him on the arm and Dean jumps, clutching it. He stares at her, scandalised and throws Sam the same look.  
  
“You’re not gonna control her? Dude, put her on a leash or something.” This earns him another smack and he hisses, rubbing away the pain. Jude’s grinning as she skips past him out of the door, hand clenched around the sleeve of Cas’s trenchcoat. Dean gives Cas a blank, empty glare as he passes. He receives one in return.  
  
And it stings.

-

They get back and they’re all relatively unscathed and clean. Cas, however, has a gash along the side of his neck. He’s seated himself on the bed and there’s a trickle of blood dipping underneath his collar. Dean follows it with his eyes.  
  
“You boys...” Fae throws her bags onto the bed and lets out a laugh that’s not quite amused, but not harsh either. “You fight together like you’ve been doing it for years. I mean...” She gestures at Sam and Dean. “You guys I get. But the way you work with the pup? It’s like he’s been at your side forever.”  
  
Sam gives her a smile full of happiness and rainbows and unicorns. Dean just keeps watching the blood on Cas’s skin and his voice comes out sour.  
  
“Sure, we fight like clockwork. That’s why Cas got swiped by that demon bitch. ‘Cos you know, he fits into mine and Sam’s lives like he’s supposed to be there. He’s so perfect and _angelic_ —“  
  
“I would be able to heal faster if I had my powers,” Cas cups the cut with his hand, blue eyes piercing Dean accusingly. “Do I have to remind you whose fault it is that they’re gone?”  
  
“Cas.” Sam snaps angrily and Cas knows he’s gone over the line. It’s too late; the words have sunk in and etched themselves into Dean’s chest. Guilt on top of guilt.  
  
Fae and Jude stand, awkwardly, at the edge of the room.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Fae curses, and she rubs her forehead. “Are answers too much to ask? In case you guys hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda loose parts over here.” None of them listen to her. She mutters under her breath and reaches into her bag, throwing the first kit over to Jude. “Go patch up the pup.”  
  
Dean’s gaze snaps to the kit in Jude’s hands and his fingers itch to reach out and grab it. There’s a mantra, a voice, in the back of his head. It’s telling him that it’s not her responsibility. That what happened to Cas was his fault, so he should fix it. Cas was in his charge now.  
  
He doesn’t have to say anything. Jude’s in front of him and holding out the kit, a smile spreading over her boyish face.  
  
“You’ve got some things to talk about.” She presses it into his limp hands and he takes it, swallowing.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Sam jerks his head in the direction of the door and Fae and Jude follow him out of it, leaving the two men alone.  
  
Dean says nothing as he moves closer, placing the box onto the bed beside Cas’s thigh. It’s silent. They say nothing, even when Cas has his trenchcoat and suit jacket off and Dean’s fingers start working at the top button on his shirt.  
  
He pulls the edge of Cas’s shirt down, revealing a smooth patch of pale skin and the droplet of blood he had been watching. His eyes dart up to Cas’s, but they’re too blue, too apologetic, too close. He looks down again, moving between Cas’s legs to get a better view of the cut. It’s at the nape of his neck too, beneath the strands of hair that have grown longer. When he presses the cold swab of cotton wall to Cas’s skin, it trembles beneath him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cas finally says, his words gravelly and whispered. Dean looks up at him quickly, looks back down just as quick.  
  
“For what?” He replies. He tries to sound soft. It comes out bitter. Cas notices and grimaces when Dean presses down a little too hard on the cut.  
  
Dean feels guilty afterwards, but swallows it down when Cas tilts his head, revealing more of his neck and muscle and skin.  
  
“What I said. It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
Dean tips more antiseptic lotion onto the cotton wool bud and tenderly returns to the wound. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. So he cleans in silence, ignoring the way Cas shivers beneath him when his fingers brush away the hairs at the nape of his neck. He also pretends that he can’t see Cas’s fingers twitching nervously on the blanket next to him.  
  
He leans closer, mouth blowing across the strands of Cas’s hair and eyes half-closing. His little finger brushes against skin as he cleans. It doesn’t have to, but he wants it to. He can feel Cas, knows he’s there, and that feeling soothes the anger that had been festering in his gut.  
  
“You know me,” he says, voice hoarse and low, “once it’s out there, I can’t help but lap it up like the self-pitying asshole that I am.”  
  
He jerks when Cas suddenly grasps hold of his wrist and he’s forced to look. He has to. And they’re so close, those eyes that he thought he’d never see again, that he doesn’t want to see now. He’d gotten over it. He’d already accepted that he wouldn’t be able to look at them like this again.  
  
“You hurt me with words,” Cas says, and it’s almost the same as the voice that Dean had heard in Bobby’s kitchen, over a year ago. But it’s not threatening, it’s almost... broken. “I wanted to do the same. I... You make me so...”  
  
“Horny?” Dean jokes. He can’t help it. It’s natural instinct, to joke when things are dire. And it helps. It does. Because Cas actually lets out a huff of amusement and his warm breath mingles with Dean’s.  
  
“Dean Winchester,” Cas says and his thumb brushes across the wrist that’s propped up on his shoulder. Dean’s fingers sweep along the skin of Cas’s neck. “Always joking.”  
  
He’s not forgiven. Neither of them has been forgiven. They know that. Dean’s still grieving and Castiel still harbours Dean’s words like they’re scars with stories.  
  
Dean’s pulled back further and he can see all of Cas’s face now. It’s filled with this... reverence. This regret, and nostalgia, and happiness, and tingling anger. It’s a beautiful expression, and Dean just wants to...  
  
...he wants to keep it.  
  
The door opens, but neither of them notice. Dean’s too busy trying to etch the expression into his mind. He’s still trying to process that yeah, he’s here, he’s pissed off with Cas, he’s close to Cas, he’s looking at Cas, and he’s here.  
  
“Oi, girlpants.”  
  
Dean blinks and looks over to the door. Fae’s staring at them incredulously, Jude looks like a kid seeing Santa for the first time and Sam... well, he’s unbothered.  
  
“What?” Dean snaps at Fae, his fingertips digging into the side of Cas’s neck a little. Cas’s grip tightens on his wrist, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas turn his head back to him.  
  
“You ever heard of personal space?” She retorts, gesturing to him and Cas. Dean looks down between them, alarmed. He hadn’t realised. Legs between Cas’s, one hand inches away from Cas’s chest, the other cupping his neck, posture bent and face just a mishap away from collision.  
  
“They don’t do personal space,” Sam says casually, throwing their food onto the table.  
  
Dean doesn’t move away. Cas’s hand is no longer on his wrist – it feels cold without it – and so he keeps cleaning. He leans over Cas, chest brushing his shoulder, to get to the kit.  
  
“I can see that.” Fae’s watching them curiously now, studying Dean as he tapes the wad to Cas’s neck, his eyes not leaving Cas’s. Jude’s watching them too and she smirks.  
  
“Hey, Dee, has anyone ever said that you two’ve got some wicked chemistry?”  
  
Dean straightens up and admires his handiwork. Castiel strokes the bandage and nods in thanks. Vaguely registering his name, Dean looks up at Jude, who he realises is speaking to him. She’d been spectacularly quiet the past few hours.  
  
“Hm?” He blinks dazedly at her. He’d stopped listening to them after Cas had pinned his gaze back onto the side of his face.  
  
“You and Cas. Chemistry.” She grins. “You know, you’ve got the whole love hate thing going on. No personal space—“  
  
“Dude,  _no_.” Dean moves away now and he feels cold without Cas’s warmth in front of him. “That’s just...  _no_.”  
  
Jude shrugs and lies back in a chair, rummaging through their bag of food for her order.  
  
“I dunno, just an observation. Been watching you two while you squabble you know. Just looks like sexual tension—“  
  
“—Hey, you’re too young to know about that stuff.” Fae hits her on the shoulder. Jude snorts.  
  
“Right. I’ve been to bars and brothels and strip clubs and dodgy motels with only R-rated movies available.  _And_  I’ve seen the insides of humans more than a surgeon. I’m not too young to know anything.”  
  
“Touché,” Dean says, impressed. They share a nonexistent bro-fist.  
  
Fae clearly feels a little put-out, so she heads over to Sam. Dean’s nose wrinkles in disgust when the two start to make pathetic gooey eyes to each other and when he glances at Jude, she’s doing the same.  
  
It’s strange, that the two women had entered his and Sam’s life so suddenly, and yet it felt like they’d been there forever. How long had it been? Less than a day?  
  
And yet here he was, sharing looks with a twelve-year-old who knew exactly how he felt and watching his brother fall at a woman’s feet. It was weird.  
  
A good kinda weird.


	6. Chapter 6

**18th July 2010**  
  
Dean and Sam are asleep, and Cas is leaning out of the large window in the lounge, breathing in the night air. He’s thinking, his mind scrambled and unordered. As an angel, it was so easy to get one thing and focus on it. Now, it was like grasping sand. He would think about one thing and then it would slip through his fingers. He’d try to grasp it again, but he’d get grains of a new thought.  
  
He thought of Dean. How, earlier, when he had said those harsh things, it had been Sam that had snapped at him. Sam, who had never glared at Cas with so much aggression. That was how he had known that he had gone too far; Sam’s tone and Dean’s silence. But, it was too late now.  
  
“You’re up late.” It’s Jude. Castiel doesn’t turn around. He knows she’s going to join him. “Dee’s a piece of work.”  
  
Castiel smiles. “You could say that.”  
  
“I dunno, I guess... I was expecting this blonde-haired, blue-eyed, overly-polite, perfect man. But instead it was...”  
  
“Dean is... If you could see his soul, you would know.” Cas looks up and he can see the stars clearly through the unlatched window. “It’s hard to describe. Imagine... cold rain after a drought. A warm bed in the winter. A touchable star. It’s tainted, but beautifully so.”  
  
Jude’s got that expression again – that bewildered, loving smile.  
  
“You always look so happy when you talk about him,” Jude says softly and Cas ducks his head, a little abashed. Her smile falls. “But he makes you angry. I’ve never seen you angry.”  
  
Cas doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how else he can describe why it is Dean is special to him, when he can elicit emotions in him that others can’t.  
  
“Cas...” Cas looks at Jude, and he realises that she’s using the nickname that Dean had given him. “What they said... about you being an angel. Is that true?”  
  
Cas feels his elation drop, but he knows that Jude hadn’t intentionally killed the mood. He doesn’t say anything. He’s clutching at sand again and then he gets a firm grip on his decision.  
  
“Yes,” he confirms, and he waits, because Jude and Fae... they believed what they saw. And he had no wings to show them.  
  
She takes it, but still has trouble believing it completely.  
  
“And the thing hunting you... That’s an angel, too?” she asks. Cas is staring at the ground on the other side of the window, watching the blades of grass blow in the wind.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What Dee said too... about them... they were your family?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“They... made you human. Why?” She seems saddened by the thought.  
  
“It’s my punishment.”  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
Cas presses his thumbs and index fingers together, forming the shape of a halo.  
  
“I lost faith in God and found faith in the Winchesters.”  
  
 “Gosh,” she breathes out. “You... Your family just... How can you live with that? ”  
  
It’s a question that stings, because Cas can live with it. Living without his family was something that was going to hurt, because he’d been with them since the beginning of his existence. But they had wanted to end the world that his Father had made and that was something that his family wouldn’t do. Not the family he had flown with. The Winchesters were his new salvation and not being with them...  _that_  was what he couldn’t live with.  
  
“He’s a trooper.” There’s a new voice in the room. Jude and Cas turn and see Dean. Though it’s dark, Cas can see that he’s leaning against the doorframe, eyes lidded with sleep, hair mussed, boxers hanging low on his hips and black t-shirt skewed. Cas brings his fallen gaze back up to Dean’s face, cheeks warm.  
  
“Nightmares?” Cas asks with a frown. He can see the haunted, drained light in Dean’s eyes. Dean’s smirk falls and he starts to look around the room, avoiding their gazes. That’s answer enough.  
  
“You guys having trouble sleeping?” he asks, moving over to the table. Cas watches him pour out a glass of whiskey and he feels his own throat clench with a thirst that’s new and strange.  
  
“Yeah,” Jude leans back against the window ledge and blows her short fringe up. “Nightmares.”  
  
“Oh?” Dean raises an eyebrow and gulps down some liquid. Castiel follows the bob of his Adam’s apple, mouth dry. He licks his lips.  
  
“Yup. Mine’s all bright white light and rumbling and screeching. Like, a ringing in my ears. Not exactly pleasant.” Dean’s eyebrow’s shoot up and he seems thoughtful. Castiel doesn’t realise. He’s moving forwards, eyes on the bottle of alcohol. Jude casts him a strange look, but keeps on talking. “What about yours? Can’t be any worse than mine?”  
  
Dean seems to dispel his suspicion and snorts, shaking his head. He looks down at the floor with a sad smile.  
  
“Yeah. Right. Trust me, you ain’t got nothing on—“ Dean stops. Cas is staring at his glass and he looks up at Dean questioningly. He doesn’t have to say anything. Dean adds it up, hands it to him and watches him swallow a mouthful.  
  
There’s a pleasant burn and bitterness. It’s... addictive. He chugs down the rest of it, his eyes closed in delight, and slams the glass down onto the table, a dazed smile on his face.  
  
“It’s good,” he says, more to himself than to Dean. The burn has thinned out to cover his entire body and now he’s warm. It’s a wonderful feeling.  
  
“Yeah it is,” Dean replies, turning to pour out another glass. He peers over his shoulder to look at Jude.“I think it’s time you went to bed, little girl.” She flips him off with a grin and he fakes shock. “Well, that’s not very ladylike.”  
  
“Bite me,” she retorts, pushing herself off of the wall with a yawn. “Alright, whatever, I’m gonna catch a few more Z’s. You two have fun and remember,” She points at them, “I’m right next door and I don’t have ear plugs. Keep it down.”  
  
She shuts the door before Dean can respond. Cas doesn’t know why Dean mutters under his breath, or why he swallows the whiskey in his hand like a thirsty child. Cas reaches out, grabs the glass before he can finish it and gulps the rest down. They start to make their way through the bottle in silence, sharing the same glass and sharing the same darkness. Cas doesn’t know how long they stand there, just drinking, without speaking. It must be long enough for the alcohol to take effect, because he can’t focus on one thing before it runs away from him.  
  
“So,” Dean starts awkwardly, looking down at his feet. He’s leaning backwards against the table with Cas, their shoulders almost pressed together. “You been okay? I mean with the whole...” He trails off and waves a hand in Cas’s direction.  
  
“It was hard, at first. But I’d been watching you and Sam for so long. I knew enough to get by.”  
  
Dean nods. “And, uh... the chicks? How’d you meet ‘em?”  
  
“I started hunting and Jude saved me.”  
  
Dean surprises Cas with a laugh. “Really?  _You_  started hunting? How’d that work out?”  
  
Cas smiles at the floor. “Not so well.”  
  
Dean refills the glass and knocks it back. Refills it again, hands it to Cas. Cas gulps it down and revels in the heat, the looseness, and when he opens his eyes again, they focus uneasily.  
  
“And..., um. The angels.... you miss ‘em?”  
  
Cas laughs breathlessly. It’s not amusement, more... realisation.  
  
“They tried to destroy the world that I love. That my father loves. I miss them, but I won’t ever be able to forgive them for that. You and Sam, however.” He looks up and Dean’s staring at him with bright green eyes, sympathetic and soft. “I missed you.”  
  
Dean starts to smile, but it collapses, and he drops his head. Cas reaches behind him and starts to drink straight from the bottle of whiskey, passing it over to Dean. Dean swigs back a mouthful and goes back to the staring at the carpet.  
  
“It was hard, you know. Did you really think me and Sammy would just get over it?”  
  
Cas wants to concentrate on his words, because they’re important, but he’s getting dizzier. He’s feeling warm and happy. Dean’s next to him, he’s found his family and sure, he’s mortal, but he’s one of his Father’s greatest creations. He can spend a lifetime with the Winchesters instead of an eternity with his traitorous family.  
  
“You and Sam... You’re a pair. It’s always been you two, the Winchester brothers. There was no place for me,” he slurs. Dean scoffs and it’s worn. Like he’s tired of being angry.  
  
“Three Musketeers. The Golden Trio. The Fellowship. More than two, Cas.” Cas lets out another breathless laugh and shakes his head. “What?”  
  
“You... I was right, you are very similar.”  
  
Dean finishes off the last of the whiskey and folds his arms, the tension gone from his body. The alcohol is thrumming through both his and Cas’s system.  
  
“To who?”  
  
Cas lifts his head and when he looks at Dean, he feels warmer. It’s those eyes and that smile. The things he’d never thought he’d see again.  
  
“No one,” he brushes off with a breath. They look at each other in silence and Cas wishes he had the power to see into Dean’s mind, because he can’t tell what the hunter is thinking. So instead of trying to figure it out, Cas starts to pick out every little detail on Dean’s face. His freckles; his eyelashes; his eyebrows; the little strand of hair that’s flat against his forehead; the tiny grains of stubble; his moist, slightly-parted lips...  
  
It happens fast, and Cas is completely unaware of what he’s doing.  
  
He leans forwards, plants a kiss on Dean’s lips, and then passes out.

-

Dean stands there, stunned, fingers brushing against the fresh blood on his bottom lip.  
  
Had that just happened? Had Cas just  _fallen_  onto his lips, and then passed out? He hisses when he presses too hard on the cut that had been the results of the ‘kiss’.  
  
“Well, that was entertaining.”  
  
Dean swerves around and Jude’s standing in the doorway of her room, phone raised and a sleepy smile on her face.  
  
“How long you been standing there?” he snaps. She grins.  
  
“Long enough.” Dean scowls at her and lunges for the phone. She dodges him and shoves it into the pockets of her pyjamas. “No way. This is my little treasure.”  
  
“You are one creepy chick, you know that?” Dean growls as threateningly as he can manage. Jude shrugs. Her gaze drops to Cas, who’s snoring peacefully on the floor.  
  
“You want some help getting his ass up?”  
  
Dean nudges Cas with his foot. He doesn’t even flinch. Sighing, Dean bends over to grab Cas’s arm.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jude’s at his side, grabbing Cas’s other arm and hauling it over her shoulder. They’re silent as they drag him over to the sofa, where they allow him to drop heavily onto it. He snuggles his face closer to the pillow.  
  
“He’ll be feeling that fall tomorrow,” Jude whispers and Dean snorts softly. They stare down at Cas and Dean should find it strange, that he’s sleeping. But... it fits. And it’s nice, because he’s never look so relaxed. Dean catches the affectionate look that Jude is giving to the sleeping not-quite-angel and his curiosity peaks.  
  
“So... how’d you get so buddy buddy?”  
  
Jude smiles down at her feet.  
  
“I dunno. It’s weird. Me and Fae don’t let a lotta people get close, ‘cos we just get hurt in the end. But with the pup, he...”  
  
“...Gets in deep before you know what’s hit you.” Dean finishes and she grins at him.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Cas snorts in his sleep and jerks, curling his arms underneath the pillow.  
  
“Ain’t he adorable,” Dean quips and he snuffs a laugh to himself. Jude’s careful gaze moves to him, though, and she’s got a quirk to her lips. She doesn’t say anything. She keeps her words and makes a silent promise.  
  
Time passes and when the sun comes up outside, it casts a shadow down onto Dean and Jude. At some point in the night, they’d seated themselves on the floor. They’d talked, and talked, and talked.  
  
When Cas wakes up, his head is pounding, his mouth is dry, there’s a cut on his lip, and he’s hungry. But he has to smile, because underneath the open window, he sees Dean and Jude. They’re asleep, heads pressed together, legs sprawled out in front of them, the same bundle of frowns marring their foreheads.  
  
He discards the image he’d kept of Sam and Dean clutching each other in relief, and replaces it with a new one.


	7. Chapter 7

**19th July 2010**  
  
Dean thinks it’ll be okay now. He’ll learn to forgive Cas and he’ll get used to him being around.  
  
It’s the next morning and the cuts on both Dean and Cas’s lips go unmentioned. Either Jude had blabbed to Sam and Fae about the whole thing, or they’d had the sense to keep quiet.  
  
They’re eating breakfast with Fae and Jude, who aren’t showing any signs of wanting to go their own way yet. Dean’s worried that when they do, Cas might decide to go with them. He’s busy pondering this – whether or not Cas’s loyalties still lay with him – when the glass in front of him starts to clink against an empty bottle.  
  
“The hell...” he mutters, and then it’s the table trembling. There’s a distant shrill in his ears and it’s getting louder. He knows. He knows what it is better than everyone in the room. “Angels?” His gaze snaps to Cas, whose hangover looks infinitely worse when he has fear and guilt spread across his features. Cas snatches the bread knife out of Fae’s shaking hand and slices across his arm, painting a small sigil on the table. The ringing stops and the table is sturdy again. Dean’s looking at him with his jaw tight, eyes empty. “Cas.” The name that tumbles from his lips says a thousand words.  _What was that? Why did you react so quickly? So easily?_  
  
“I...” Cas stutters and he awkwardly places the knife back onto the table. He doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Wait, you saying’ it’s an  _angel_  trying to kill us?” Fae asks with disbelief and Dean sweeps his gaze over the two women. It’d happened before? Cas doesn’t answer her question either and doesn’t seem to be close to answering Dean’s unspoken questions either.  
  
“Why are angels after you?” Dean says in a low, demanding voice. Castiel looks at him with those sad, blue eyes, but it doesn’t work. Dean’s pissed. Was there anything else Cas was keeping from him?  
  
“I think they want to...” Cas trails off and the fissure that’s crackling between him and Dean is almost solid. The others watch on, like they don’t want to touch on a moment that doesn’t belong to them. “They want to finish what they started.”  
  
Cas flinches when Dean slams a fist down onto the table. A fork clatters to the floor and Dean dips his head, body stiff.  
  
“And you didn’t think this was important information?” His voice is restrained and quivering.  
  
Cas opens his mouth, but what he wants to say catches in his throat. How is he supposed to say it without angering Dean further?  
  
“I...” He sighs. “...I didn’t want to ruin what we were rebuilding.”  
  
“Yeah, well, look where it got you. Now you gotta start all over,”  
  
“Dean...” Sam attempts to control the situation, but Dean snaps out of his seat and storms out. They listen to him packing his bags in the other room. Sam’s sympathetic stare switches to Cas. “You shoulda told us, Cas. We just got you back. If Dean loses you again, I don’t think he’d....” Sam doesn’t have to say anything else. Cas feels guilty enough.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cas says quietly and he really is.  
  
 Jude pulls him out his chair and they head into her room to pack their bags.

-

It takes a while to sort out the car arrangements. Dean doesn’t want Cas in the Impala, but Sam insists on taking the journey with Fae  _alone_. So they split up into their groups: Dean, Cas and Jude in the Impala; Sam with Fae.  
  
Dean opens the passenger door and jerks his head at Jude. She opens her mouth, looking at Cas, but Dean’s pointed glare says ‘no, I don’t want him next to me.’ With a sigh, she obliges and slips into the passenger seat. Dean slams the door shut after her, not bothering to open the back door for Cas. The ex-angel clambers in by himself, his face the absolute epitome of annoyance.  
  
“This Bobby guy. You think he’ll know how to kill it?” Jude asks after Dean’s climbed into the car and started the engine. He puts it into gear and pulls out of the car park.  
  
“He’s got more books than half the frickin’ libraries in the US. I’m sure he’ll have something on how to put an angel down,” Dean replies, though he doesn’t sound convinced. He flicks on the radio and the gentle hum of AC/DC rings out. Jude’s face lights up.  
  
“AC/DC?”  
  
Dean spares her a surprised glance, but his eyes quickly return to the road.  
  
“You a classic rock nut?”  
  
She nods.  
  
“Always been a classic rock nut. My dad’s crazy about it.”  
  
“Huh,” Dean huffs. “No kidding. So was mine.” Cas is quiet in the back. He’s glaring at the back of Dean’s head and Dean can see him doing it clearly in the rear view mirror.  
  
“’Was?’” Jude asks warily. Dean swallows and when he glances at her, he can see curiosity burning in her eyes. She’s a nosy little kid.  
  
“He’s gone. Long story.”  
  
She doesn’t ask for anything else, though Dean knows she wants to.  
  
“What about you? You got some poor daddy sob story?” Dean asks and it’s not out of courtesy. He’s genuinely curious. Jude half shrugs.  
  
“Kinda. If you call abandonment a sob story.”  
  
“He ditched you?”  
  
“Honestly? We dunno. We just woke up one morning and he was gone. No note, nothin’. Wouldn’t answer his phone, wouldn’t return our calls. Most people would assume the worst but me and Fae, we ain’t given up hope.”  
  
Dean has to smile.  
  
“Hey, I know how you feel. Same thing happened to our dad. Even when all reasoning pointed to him being dead, we kept goin’ and we found him in the end.”  
  
Jude smiles at him and she seems lighter somehow. Like she has renewed hope.  
  
“You know what, Dee?” Dean looks over at her and ignores the small rush of warmth he feels toward the nickname she’d given him. “You ain’t half bad.”  
  
He laughs, and when he looks into the rear view mirror again, he notices that Cas no longer looks irritated. He’s watching Jude fondly. Dean casts a quick glance at her, one corner of his lip curled upwards.  
  
“You ain’t too bad yourself, kiddo.”

-

“They’re a handful.” Fae looks over at Sam in the passenger seat and smiles. Sam’s staring at the rear of the Impala with a sort of affection that Fae can’t put her finger on. Was it the car or the people in the car that he was staring at so lovingly?  
  
“Yeah. Dean’s never had a friend before. I don’t think he knows how the whole thing works.”  
  
“He doesn’t have hunter buddies?”  
  
“A few. None of them changed his life like Cas did.”  
  
Fae muffles the question she wants to ask, because she knows it’s too much. Somehow, the story of the ‘angel’ and the hunter didn’t seem like it’d be a good one. It slips through anyway.  
  
“Do you mind me asking...” She tries to stop herself, but it keeps coming. “How’d they meet? What’s the story?”  
  
She catches Sam’s briefly pained expression, but his sigh gives her hope.  
  
“I... can’t tell you everything. I will, one day.” His glance shows a promise. “What I’m about to tell you... You can’t tell Dean. It’s not my place to tell his story, but you know, I figured you might as well know if you’re gonna be sticking around.”  
  
Fae smiles uneasily at him.  
  
“Okay,” she says, hoping the crack in her voice goes unnoticed. It does. There are a few beats of silence before Sam starts to talk.  
  
“I died,” he begins. “I died, and Dean made a deal with a demon to bring me back. After a year, they took him. He went to Hell.” Fae swallows. Sam sounded so pained at the memory, she immediately regretted bringing it up. She couldn’t look at him. “After a year, he came back. We didn’t know how, but then Cas showed up. Said God had work for Dean. Dean was...” Sam lets out a shaky breath, “Dean was in Hell for forty years. He was tortured for forty years and I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t save him; Cas did. And he was ordered to.”  
  
Fae remembers to breathe and sucks in a large helping of oxygen.  
  
“Jesus,” she hisses. “I had... no idea. The things you two have been through. It’s incredible you’re still standing.”  
  
“You believe me?” Sam asks with surprise. Fae looks over at him but has to look back at the road, because he has that frown on his face; the one that makes her want to curl him up in a blanket and keep him safe.  
  
“Well, I don’t really have any other choice. It’s what you’re givin’ me, I have to take it as the truth.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Fae doesn’t know why Sam has to thank her, but she accepts it anyway.  
  
“So, those two. That’s all there is to their story?”  
  
“I guess. Cas... he had a ‘stick up his ass’ as Dean would say. Dean kinda taught him right from wrong, taught him to follow his instincts, and taught him freedom. Then Cas went against his family for us and now he’s human.”  
  
“And the personal space thing?”  
  
Sam laughs. “It was Cas’s problem, at first. It pissed Dean off, ‘cos he’s not used to people wanting to get so close to him. They usually feel kinda intimidated. Cas didn’t know what he was doing. Wasn’t exactly well-scripted to the ways of humans.”  
  
Fae snorts. “Still isn’t.”  
  
“I actually thought there was something to it, at first.” Sam grins at the thought. “I thought maybe Cas had a thing for Dean. He’s done a lot for him, you know? It was a little sad, ‘cos he watched Dean like he was this new God or somethin’ and Dean never noticed. Wouldn’t of made a difference if he did; Dean goes for chicks.”  
  
Fae raises an eyebrow.  
  
“You sure? Didn’t exactly look platonic back there, gettin’ all up in Cas’s bubble like that.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure. I know that when I got Dean back, I didn’t wanna leave the room without him for days. He’s just glad Cas is safe.”  
  
Fae shrugs. Makes sense. Still, her sister was observant and if she saw something between the two...  
  
“You love them a lot, don’t you?” Fae asks Sam with a gentle smile. Sam presses his back further into the seat and rests his head against the headrest.  
  
“Don’t tell Dean, ‘cos he hates it when I get sappy, but yeah. I don’t have a lot left in the world, so all the love I’ve got goes to Bobby, Cas and Dean.” He smiles coyly at her. “Maybe I got a little to spare, though.”  
  
Fae’s cheeks warm and she takes one hand off of the wheel to push him playfully.  
  
“Yeah, well, I only got Jude. I got plenty of love to spare.” She doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding hopeful, but it does. Sam doesn’t say anything, though.  
  
They spend the rest of the journey in a comfortable silence, sending each other stolen glances.

-

They stop once at a gas station on their way over and then pull into a nearby motel. They’re only a couple of hours away from Bobby’s, but Dean’s exhausted. Cas offers to drive. Dean gives his answer through a wild glare.  
  
“You’re impossible,” Cas mutters under his breath as he climbs out of the car and Dean pretends he doesn’t hear it. Jude sends them both warning glances.  
  
“If you two start firing off at each other, this little treasure in my pocket is going straight to Sam,” she threatens, and Dean attempts to shake it off casually with a shrug.  
  
“I’m not the star of the show. Cas is the one who got skunked and planted one on me. The humiliation is all on him.”  
  
“I’ve never felt humiliation and never will,” Is Cas’s excuse, though it’s not convincing. Neither of their excuses are. Dean knows that Sam would never let him forget it and Cas knows that he’ll never look the same through Sam’s eyes again. Jude smiles with satisfaction and heads over to Sam and Fae who have two sets of keys.  
  
“We getting two rooms?” she asks and Fae nods, throwing Dean their key. Luckily, the room is right behind them.  
  
“Got a good few hours before that thing catches up with us. Me and Sam want to get away from that.” She jerks her head at the two boys. “We figured you could handle it.”  
  
Jude’s eyes sparkle, because she knows the real reason they want a different room.  
  
“Sure, I got this. I’ll make sure they behave.”  
  
“We can hear you,” Dean says.  
  
“Don’t leave them alone. And hide any sharp objects you got,” Sam warns and his expression is so serious, Jude almost believes him.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Dean murmurs to himself and starts to fiddle with the lock to their room. He opens it and storms in, throwing his bag on the nearest bed. There are only two, so he figures one of them will be taking the sofa bed. He considers, just for a moment, making Cas sleep on it. Because he knows he wouldn’t say no.  
  
But he heads over to it with a sigh, pulls it out, and moves his bag onto it.  
  
“You two kids gonna kiss and make-up?” Jude says as she strolls in, Cas at her heels. Dean stops rifling through his bag to send her a blank stare and she snorts in amusement. “Oh okay, sorry, bad joke.”  
  
“Apologies mean nothing to Dean,” Cas says casually as he peels off his trenchcoat. He looks surprised to see Dean glaring at him and Jude shaking her head. “I... Said that out loud.”  
  
“You gotta stop doing that,” Jude says. “You’re gonna say something you regret.”  
  
“He’s right, though. Words don’t mean anything,” Dean says stubbornly, angrily stuffing his clothes back into his bag. “He’s had two strikes. Got anythin’ else you want to tell me, Cas? You know you only got three.”  
  
“What do you want me to do, Dean? I kept it from you so you wouldn’t do  _this._ ”  
  
“I want you to start tellin’ the truth and quit keeping stuff from us because you want everything to be fine and dandy.”  
  
“It’s an stalemate. I tell you, you act childish. I keep it from you, you find out, you act childish.”  
  
“You think I’d be more pissed if you’d just outed and told me from the start—“  
  
“—I think you’d continue to act like a stubborn goat.”  
  
Dean opens his mouth to respond, but closes it, lips twitching as he attempts to contain a smile. “Did... Did you just call me a  _goat_?”  
  
Castiel rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen. His figure is a blur through the glass that sections it off from the bedroom-come-lounge. Jude’s leaning against it, mouth fighting against a smile.  
  
“That has to be the most anti-climatic end to an argument I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say he didn’t have many arguments while he was with you two. I bet you spoiled him like he was some abandoned puppy.”  
  
Jude shrugs. “Fae calls him ‘the pup’ for a reason.”  
  
When Cas comes back in from the kitchen, he’s clutching a bottle of whiskey, similar to the one they had drunk before. It takes a while to register the image. Cas chugs it back, wiping along his lips with the back of his hand.  
  
“What?” he asks Dean, who’s staring at him with a wary gaze.  
  
“You... You turning into some kinda alcoholic?”  
  
“I find it to be one of the few good things I have discovered since my time on Earth.”  
  
“...Dude, the first time you drank alcohol was  _yesterday._ ”  
  
“And I found it to be pleasing.” Cas gulps back an exceptionally large mouthful as if to prove his point.  
  
“If you’ve turned our fallen angel into some kind of alcoholic,” Jude says to Dean distractedly while she watches Cas drink through the bottle with ease, “I am going to set fire to your car.”  
  
Dean wants to threaten her back, but he fears she might be right. Cas settles himself onto his bed comfortably and suckles away at the bottle, licking the alcohol from his lips.  
  
“Slow down,” Dean warns as Cas takes his third large mouthful in under a minute. Cas ignores him, reading the label on the back of the bottle as though it was more interesting to him than Dean. Dean didn’t want to consider the possibility that it might’ve been.  
  
Jude mutters under her breath and heads over to her bed. She pulls a book from her bag and starts to read, glancing every few minutes at Cas. With a shake of his head, Dean settles himself onto his sofa bed and flicks on the television, watching some marathon of a show about vampires.  
  
He makes jokes and comments in his head, but after a few hours, he realises it’s painfully quiet behind him. He looks over his shoulder and finds Jude asleep on her book and Cas watching the television with intense interest.  
  
Ignoring Cas, Dean heads over to Jude. He takes the book out from under her face, pulls the blanket back and wraps it around her. He returns to the television, though now he’s extremely aware of Cas’s attention on it.  
  
“Can I help you?” he asks over his shoulder, eyes falling on the almost-empty whiskey bottle. Cas’s disorientated gaze snaps to him.  
  
“Kissing. It looks interesting.” He jerks his head towards the couple on screen, who seem to be in a heated mess of lip-locking. Dean’s neck warms.  
  
“If you’re one of those dippy drunks that gets touchy-feely when they’re smashed, then stay other there, frisky.”  
  
“Just an innocent observation,” Cas slurs, though the interested look he throws Dean makes him feel uncomfortable. To shake off the feeling, he gets up to change into a fresh t-shirt to sleep in, leaving Cas to watch the couple on screen make out. He figures it’d be good to have some visual footage to go on.  
  
When he peels off his t-shirt, he hears a sharp intake of breath from where Cas is seated and for a moment, Dean thinks that maybe Cas  _did_  get a little frisky after he’d drunk enough. But that wasn’t it. Cas was staring at him in what looked like  _pain_.  
  
“What?” Dean asks, worried. He looks around and behind him, but there’s nothing.  
  
“That...” Cas scrambles off of the bed, stumbling a little, before swinging into Dean’s personal space.  
  
“Woah,” Dean tries to get back further, but there’s a wall. Cas stretches a hand out, and Dean screws his eyes shut. If Jude had some secret video camera planted somewhere, he wanted to make it look like anything that happened was totally non-consensual, and the blame was totally all on Cas.  
  
But nothing happens. He feels a weight from around his neck lift and when he opens his eyes, Cas is looking down at the golden feather that had been rested atop Dean’s chest. He’s turning it over in his hands, brushing his fingers through the strands and his expression is full of nostalgia, eyes bright, mouth parted.  
  
“You... How did you get this?”  
  
“Found it just after me and Sammy put a double whammy lock on the seal to Lucifer’s cage. Why?”  
  
Castiel looks up at him, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. It’s the look that he’d used to give him; when he was the righteous man and Cas was the angel.  
  
“You can see this?”  
  
Dean frowns. “Uh, yeah?”  
  
“This is mine. You can see it. This means...” Cas freezes, then his face falls. He shakes his head, as though trying to dispel the alcohol from his system so he could think clearer. “No... It can’t. That would mean...”  
  
Dean’s eyes dart between both of Cas’s and he nods his head slowly to urge Cas on.  
  
“What?”  
  
Cas raises his fallen head to look at him again and he looks wrecked and awed and... kind of beautiful. Dean doesn’t get time to think about anything else. Cas has his fingers in the loops of his jeans, he’s tugging Dean forward, and their lips are meeting for the second time.  
  
Dean’s eyes shoot open wider and – on the off chance that Jude really did plant a video camera somewhere - he stretches his hands out to the side to prove that none of this was his idea because  _damnit, he just knew Cas was one of those—_ He stops thinking. Cas’s hands run up his bare sides, over his chest, around his shoulders, cupping his neck. His lips slide over his  _just so_  and then there are teeth nibbling on Dean’s bottom lip. Dean’s heart falters and his eyes flicker, arms slowly falling back to his sides. It’s clumsy kissing; there’s pressure on the welt he has on the corner of his mouth and there’s a low hum stirring in his stomach, but it’s been so  _long_  and it feels kind of...  
  
Cas pulls away and before Dean can say anything, his feet are showered with angel puke and Cas passes out again.


	8. Chapter 8

**20th July 2010**  
  
There’s a lot of awkwardness all around the next morning.  
  
Fae and Sam have this pleased, satisfied awkwardness around them, whereas Dean and Cas have a horrible, suffocating atmosphere. Cas knows that Jude knows something happened, but she’s not saying anything. Obviously she figures that Dean and Cas not talking to each other at all is better than sniping. Or she thinks it’s worse but isn’t saying anything.  
  
Either way, Castiel is too frantic to care. Though his head hurts a little and he’s developed bruises, his mind focuses on the points that he’s picked up on.  
  
Dean had one of his feathers. A feather he must have left behind as he departed. And he can see it.  
  
He’d never considered it - kissing Dean, that is. It was such a human thing to do. But he’d needed to the night before, if only to confirm the suspicions that the feather had aroused in him. And he’d felt it, definitely. A buzz that drew him closer, made him want to push closer, press further, have skin on skin and heat with the feather rubbing between them—  
  
He shuffles uncomfortably in the backseat, catching the conflicted stare that Dean’s giving him in the rear view mirror.  
  
“You guys okay?” Jude asks as they near the end of their journey, Impala rumbling over the gravel towards Bobby’s shack.  
  
“Fine,” they both reply simultaneously. Jude throws them a suspicious look but lets it go. When they clamber out of the car, they see Bobby leaning against his open front door and when he sees Cas, his eyebrows shoot up.  
  
“You still wearin’ those rags?” is the first thing he says to him, jerking his head toward the trenchcoat and suit. Castiel hides the wave of relief he gets – he was sure Bobby would berate him or treat him coldly, as Dean had done following his sudden return.  
  
“He’s got a bag full of suits. Freak,” Dean answers for him, though there’s no bite behind his insult. Cas ignores it, if only so that he can avoid confrontation. Confrontation with Dean would just lead to him wanting to rediscover the act of intimacy and see if what he had felt the night before had just been a fluke.  
  
Bobby eyes Dean up in a way that suggests he knows there is something more behind the way he is acting and steps aside.  
  
“Alright. Come on in, ya troublemakers. We got some readin’ to do.”

-

Eventually, they’re all buried in books. Jude’s sprawled across the sofa next to Bobby, her feet resting on his legs. She thinks Bobby’s awesome and doesn’t hide the fact that she does. Bobby acts like she’s a nuisance, but he seems quite content with having her feet atop his thighs.  
  
Fae and Sam? Well, they’re just sickening. Huddled over together in the corner, legs intertwined, sneaky glances and books passed between them like secrets. Dean convinces himself that he disapproves of their overly-affectionate puppy love, but Sam looks so happy, he can’t help but feel a little warmed by it all.  
  
He glances over to Cas, who’s hunched over in the corner by himself, flicking through a crusty, slightly charred book. Dean can almost convince himself that Cas is still an angel when he’s like that; brow furrowed in concentration, suit and trenchcoat tousled and uneven, lips pressed together in worry.  
  
The frown intensifies and his fingers freeze on the page. Dean perks up.  
  
“Found anything?” Dean asks him with forced casualness. Cas looks up and it’s all shot down again. Those eyes are too open, too hurt, too confused to belong to an angel.  
  
“I... Might have.” Everyone looks up and their books flop in their hands. Castiel sucks in a breath and even before he speaks, Dean knows that whatever it is he’s found, it can’t be good. “It’s a very old method, used by those who went against Jesus and God. They forged weapons made of what we – the angels,” he corrects himself with a sad sigh, “believe to be ash of the phoenix and salt from the Red Sea, though they were never sure. These weapons were confiscated by the angels after one of these rebels managed to slaughter one and feed off its grace.”  
  
“Yeah, okay, get to the point. How do we gank this son of a bitch?” Dean snaps impatiently. They didn’t have long before the seal Cas placed on Bobby’s shack wore off.  
  
“I found some sigils we can place on the walls. It will mean the angel cannot attack unless they’re in their vessel. They’ll carry the weapon needed to kill other angels – I may have fallen, but I can only be killed by angels if they are uncontained, or have one of these weapons. I used to have one.”  
  
Dean pretends that hearing Cas mention so easily that he had fallen doesn’t bother him.  
  
“There’s a catch,” Jude says from across the room. She can read Cas almost as well as Dean, as the question had been on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Castiel looks down at the book in his hands, fingers stroking the pages.  
  
“This weapon would only be visible to those near death.” There’s more, Dean knows. Everyone else does too, so they wait. Castiel’s head is low, so his expression is hidden. “The energy that this weapon has would be too much for an ordinary human. There’s a fifty percent chance – at best – that they would survive. But if I—“  
  
“—No way. That’s not gonna happen,” Dean interrupts, his heart jumping into his throat. He catches on quicker than the others, so he elaborates for them. “He wants to put his head on the choppin’ block.”  
  
“Cas—“ Sam starts, but Castiel holds up a hand.  
  
“Dean has a feather that came from my wings the night I fell. If we can both see it and if it warms in my presence, it means there’s still a fraction of my grace inside it. If I have that with me, I have a higher chance of survival than any of you.”  
  
“You can see it, too?” Sam asks, seemingly unbothered by the fact he suddenly changes the topic. “But... why can only Dean see it? Why not us?”  
  
“Hey,” Dean snaps. “We got a suicidal fallen angel over here, save your questions for later.” He turns back to Cas, opens his mouth, but someone else speaks over him.  
  
“I’m all in.” Everyone turns to Bobby. He throws a book onto the ground in defeat and shrugs. “Best idea we’ve had yet, and probably the only one that’ll work. I got faith in sad little flapless over there.”  
  
“Me too,” Fae says strongly, grinning at Cas. “The pup’s a fighter.”  
  
“I...” Jude looks worried and nervous, but something shifts, and she straightens. “It makes sense for Cas to do it. It’s his family.”  
  
Sam nods. They’re all in. Except for Dean.  
  
“You don’t realise how off the rails this is? You’re gonna risk your life so you can save it? Does that make any sense to you?” He’s trying to put up an argument, but he knows that Cas’s decision is made.  
  
“This is the best way. This is the  _only_  way.” Cas shuts the book and places it carefully on the table. He makes a move, as if to stand, but Dean’s already storming out of the lounge and slamming the front door shut, leaving behind an atmosphere that’s dark, nervous, and scared.  
  
“Alright,” Bobby claps his hands together and shoves Jude’s feet off of his legs. “Let’s get paintin’”

-

**21st July 2010**  
  
Sam’s been curious since he was a child. He’d research things about a place before John Winchester hustled him out onto the road; he’d find out every detail about the monster they were going to hunt; he’d read through textbooks instead of storybooks; and when he wore out the textbooks, he’d move to the stories. He needed to know so much.  
  
It was fortunate, then, that Jude was the same. Sam had noticed, during their travels, that she and Dean shared many traits. She was stubborn, always joking, covering up something dark underneath it all. And it was sad, because she was so much younger, and yet was just as haunted. Sam didn’t try and bring it up with Fae – he may have outed Dean’s story, but Sam was sure Fae wouldn’t out Jude’s.  
  
So, Sam’s curious nature had him in Bobby’s lounge at two am in the morning, looking up cherubs, feathers, wings, angels – everything. And he’d hit the jackpot.  
  
“Nerd.”  
  
Sam looks over his shoulder and see’s Jude grinning down at him from the kitchen, a glass of water in her hands. Her eyes are red and her voice is breathless with exhaustion. She hasn’t slept.  
  
“You sound just like my brother,” Sam responds with a smile. She scoffs and seats herself opposite him at the table. Her eyes run over all the books laid out and propped up on the table. She raises an eyebrow, but keeps her question to herself.  
  
“A lotta people’ve been sayin’ that lately. Dunno whether to say thanks or be insulted,” she responds to his previous comment.  
  
“It’s not a bad thing, trust me. You two got a lot in common.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Like what?”  
  
Sam wants to say ‘you both look like you got a bucket load of darkness knocking around inside you’ but the words won’t come out. In the end, it doesn’t matter: Jude finally lets slip what she wanted to ask.  
  
“So, I’m guessin’ you’re working out the riddle involving a certain angel’s feather?”  
  
Sam sits back in his chair and taps his index finger on the book he has in front of him.  
  
“Solved it.”  
  
Jude’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.  
  
“No kidding?”  
  
His face loses some its satisfaction and he shakes his head, unsure.  
  
“I dunno, I guess. Doesn’t make sense though.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
He turns the book around and points at a picture above a block of writing. It’s faded, but Jude can still make it out. There’s a rough drawing of an angel, its wings torn and shredded behind it. Opposite it is an ordinary man, a feather grasped tightly in his hand.  
  
“It says there’s a prophecy, one that goes way back. It’s not exactly clear, but I think it says something about a fallen angel’s soul being bonded with the soul of a... good man?” Sam frowns, still unsure of the translation. Jude’s finger finds the word.  
  
“’Righteous’,” she says. “It says ‘righteous’.”  
  
Sam throws her an impressed glance, but it collapses into one of realisation.  
  
“Righteous man? Is that...” He lets out a sharp laugh, then another one, more smooth and defined. “Oh man, Dean’s gonna love this.”  
  
“Love what?”  
  
Sam shakes his head. “The angels... they said Dean was the ‘righteous man’. Keep reading.”  
  
Jude ducks her head low and scans the text, translating it quickly in her mind. Her mouth opens and closes again and she lets out an ugly snort that she attempts to stifle with her hand.  
  
“’Once the righteous man and the fallen are aware of the feathers presence, they will begin to form an impossible bond. One of,” she chokes, “love, and passion, and thirst—“ She has to stop and she and Sam spend a few minutes attempting to muffle their laughing. “This is a joke, right?”  
  
Sam sighs, shoulders loose and satisfied smile on his face. His stomach aches from the extremely unmanly giggles he had been spurting out earlier.  
  
“It’d explain why they’re constantly pissing each other off. It says when souls start to connect, it messes with emotions. But, I dunno... Dean’s straighter than any guy I know. It can’t be right. Even if it is, Dean and I went off the rails the last time we were given a prophecy. It could happen again.”  
  
“Another prophecy? What one?”  
  
“Apocalypse.” Neither Sam nor Jude had spoken, so they turn to look at the owner of the new voice. Dean’s leaning against the doorframe – like he had in the motel a few days ago – and he raises his eyebrows at Sam, who’s throwing him a warning look.  
  
“What? Their asses are stuck here, may as well tell them. Let’s start with the one least likely to shoot us in the face.”  
  
“The apocalypse? What?” Jude looks between the two of them, hoping that it’s a joke, but she’s been with them long enough to know that it’s not something they do often. Not when their faces look like that.  
  
“You wanna go into details?” Sam asks, and he’s scared, because he knows he should tell Fae soon about...  _that_  before they get in deeper. Dean can hear the wariness in his brother’s tone, and shrugs one shoulder.  
  
“Don’t need to if you don’t feel like it. Want the low down?” He flips the water bottle in his hand and smirks humourlessly at Jude. “Sammy died, I made a deal, went to Hell after a year, Cas pulled me out, told me God needed my help to stop seals from breaking or Lucifer’d break outta his cage and start a party. Turns out Cas’s douchebag family were the ones jumpstarting the apocalypse, so Cas went rogue and helped me out. I got to Sam before Lucifer could pop out of his box and locked him in nice and tight,” Dean grimaces at the memory but slaps on a humourless smile. “One of the angels happened to let slip that there was a prophecy. My bro and I were supposed to be Lucifer and Michael’s meatsuits so they could have a showdown and destroy the world. We shoved it up their asses and now everything’s peachy.”  
  
Jude’s gaping at him, but he pays her no notice.  
  
“So, what’s this new prophecy you two are drilling about at two am in the morning, huh? Wanna let me in on your little secret?”  
  
Sam sends Jude a worried look – she’s still frozen, eyes unblinking, unsure how to absorb so much information – but he smiles when he catches Dean’s unknowing, intrigued expression.  
  
“You sure you wanna know? It involves a certain righteous man and a fallen angel.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows raise and he leans forwards, running a hand through his already-haphazard hair.  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
Sam shows him. And, well, Dean’s reaction knocks Jude out of her stupor. He looks frightened. Very frightened. And it’s absolutely hysterical.  
  
“That’s bogus,” he attempts to say aggressively, but his voice quivers, and it just makes Jude laugh harder.  
  
“Relax, Dean, this stuff isn’t always true.” Sam turns over the page, and leans back. “Says there that if you acknowledge the bond, you and Cas can be archangels after you die. Sounds pretty awesome.”  
  
Dean’s fear falls from face and he purses his lips, nodding his head in approval. “That is pretty awesome. If I was still me, and I was allowed to order those dicks about, then here’s to hoping it’s not all phoney. I’d make a kickass archangel.”  
  
Sam and Jude share a look.  
  
“And the sexual passion and thirst? You’re not bothered that—“  
  
“—Seriously?” Dean cuts Jude off, and waves a finger into her direction. “You really need to stop. Me and Cas aren’t a couple of Barbie dolls you can string together and force to act dirty to please yourself.”  
  
“No, you’re better. You’re real and there’s already chemistry.” Jude grins when Dean lets out a groan of defeat.  
  
“What even is that? Just ‘cos Cas has some whacked out staring problem? Is that it? That ain’t chemistry, that’s an angel-to-human transition issue.”  
  
Sam folds his arms and watches the banter between Jude and Dean. Jude’s got that bright, alive twinkle in her eye that Dean gets when he winds up Sam and Dean’s got that irritated yet loving expression on his face when he looks over to Jude, meeting her joke for joke, insult to insult.  
  
He wants to freeze this moment, because he thought it’d never happen. Dean had found the woman of his dreams, though not quite in the way he’d expected to. Dean had a little sister he could protect and look after; who hadn’t made a mistake; whose trust he had given wholly and completely. And it was amazing.

-

The next morning, Cas comes downstairs with another hangover.  
  
Bobby watches him stumble over to the table and slip into it, thumb and forefinger pressing into the temples of his brow. His eyes squint and shy away from the light.  
  
“Well, ain’t you just sunshine this mornin’”  
  
“You been drinking again?” Dean kicks Cas in the shin from the other side of the table and Cas glares up at him through the gaps in his fingers.  
  
“Yes,” he replies, not bothering to lie. Dean nods, jaw tightening.  
  
“Right. Okay. We’re confiscating your alcohol.”  
  
Cas’s hands fall to the table and he stares at Dean in shock.  
  
“What—“  
  
“—No. There is no way I’m lettin’ you turn into some binge drinking alcoholic. I’m gonna get the blame.”  
  
“You can’t tell me what to do, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m callin’ this an intervention. Nice of you to come along, Bobby.” Dean nods at Bobby on the other side of the living room, and the old man responds with a roll of his eyes.  
  
“I’m outta here.” Bobby walks out.  
  
Cas lets his head drop onto the table and he rubs at the back of his neck. Dean pretends he isn’t distracted by this movement and gets up from his seat to head into the kitchen. He comes back in with a two saucepan lids and starts to slam them together.  
  
When Jude bursts through the door to the living room – Bobby had warned her outside that the boys were alone next to a room full of sharp objects – Cas is wrestling with Dean. The saucepan lids are still clutched tightly in Dean’s hands.  
  
“Hey. Hey!” She shouts and pulls them off each other. They don’t relent on their glaring and she looks between the two of them. “How old are you?”  
  
“As old as the Earth,” Cas responds casually, though he narrows his eyes at Dean. He’s trying to sound threatening, and it just makes Dean snort.  
  
“Frickin’ show off.”  
  
“What started all this?” she asks, peeling the saucepan lids away from Dean’s grasp. Castiel spares her a glance and it’s enough to make his eyes soften a little.  
  
“Dean wishes to stop me drinking alcohol.”  
  
“You’re gonna crash and burn, man. Once you’re in, it’s hard to get out. Trust me.” Dean says and there’s no bite to it now. It’s serious, and concerned, and  _knowing_. Cas visibly sinks at his words.  
  
“You could have told me this before.”  
  
“Well, I haven’t exactly got top marks for emotional stability right now.” Dean relaxes too.  
  
Jude’s silent. Had she... Was that her? Did she just fix the problem, or did they?  
  
“Good. Well... good.” She nods and places the pan lids onto the sofa. “Okay well, Cas? Wanna get the haircut now?” He blinks at her, as though staring at Dean had mulled his senses and he’d missed her words. “You said we got a week before the angel can find its vessel, right? May as well trim you up a bit. You’re kinda rockin’ the hobo look, but I think it’s time to get rid of it.”  
  
Cas looks down at himself and his hands come up to run through his hair. It’s past his ears now, brushing the edge of his jaw line. Dean watches his fingers wind through the strands and his own fingers twitch.  
  
Jude catches his interested gaze and scratches the back of her neck in forced casualness.  
  
“You know what? Dee, why don’t you do it? I didn’t really do a good job at it last time.” She hands him the scissors that she draws out of her pocket and then flees before Dean can even register what she’d asked of him.  
  
They’re left alone.  
  
“So,” Dean begins, twirling the scissors in his hands. “Let’s get chopping.”  
  
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you being near me with those,” Cas says, and the thing that stops Dean retorting with an insult is the humour laced through Cas’s voice.  
  
“Did you just make a joke?” Dean asks in mock disbelief. Castiel doesn’t reply, just smiles. Shaking his head, Dean points at the table. “Get a chair and sit your ass down.”  
  
It’s when Dean is standing behind Cas, looking down at his mop of hair, that he starts to feel... nervous? His palms sweat, he’s overwhelmed with the urge to swallow and his legs feel weak, like that nerdy kid that’s about to try and ask the head cheerleader to dance.  
  
He shakes himself and sets his jaw. With careful fingers, he reaches forward and brushes some of Cas’s hair, telling himself that it’s just so he can measure the length. He’d cut Sam’s hair when he was younger, but the moment his hand touches the hair on Cas’s head, he knows this is different.  
  
His fingers brush at the hair on the nape of Cas’s neck, and he swallows again, because Cas lets out a heavy breath. Blinking away his disorientation, Dean starts to cut, the rough pads of his fingers stroking Cas’s scalp as he does so.  
  
He takes his time, running his hand through Cas’s hair at every opportunity. When he moves around to cut the long fringe that’s brushing against Cas’s temple, he slips in between Cas’s legs, and their eyes meet.  
  
There’s something fizzling between them now. Dean can’t figure out what it is – they’re not angry at each other... not any more than they usually are. Whatever it is that’s captured the two, it’s sending waves after waves of bubbling warmth into Dean’s stomach. With unsure fingers, he tilts Cas’s head to the side and starts to cut away the hair. Cas’s eyes roam around his face and it’s distracting as hell. He has to stop his thumb from stroking slow circles along Cas’s jaw line.  
  
To keep his head sturdy, Dean uses his free hand to cup Cas’s cheek and he swallows again, because Cas almost  _nuzzles_  into his palm. He finishes, and with relief, he throws the scissors onto the table, not quite able to take his hand away yet. Cas sighs when the fingers on the hand he’s resting on start to slip through a few strands of his hair.  
  
“This is very relaxing,” Cas says breathlessly, eyes closing. Dean wants to say something, but everything just sticks in his throat and he has to swallow down the words so he doesn’t let out an indignant squeak. Relaxing? Right. Seeing Cas’s expression so slack and pleased... it was wrong in so many different ways. He doesn’t pull away though. He lifts his other hand, and both hands start to twine and tug on Cas’s hair. Dean’s close and he gets to watch how each different movement sends a flicker of different emotions over Cas’s face.  
  
Dean knows he’s gone over the line when he tugs too hard. Cas’s eyes jerk open and the pupils are blown, his sharp intake of breath saying a thousand things.  
  
“Jesus,” Dean curses under his breath and it’s subconscious. He’s a little hot under the collar and he doesn’t know how, because this is  _Cas_  staring at him with big eyes, and an open, perfect mouth...  
  
“I...” Cas slips forward on his chair and his hands grasp Dean’s bent elbows. Dean’s cupping Cas’s face, and it’d be  _so easy_  to just stretch forwards and press their lips together, like they’d done in the motel room. Could he teach Cas how to do it properly? How good could he make Cas feel? How would Cas look at the tip of an orgasm that he’d caused?  
  
Dean is dizzy and he forgets about the prophecy that Sam had told him the night before. That this was  _supposed_  to happen. His eyes flutter and he moves closer, and closer, and closer. Their lips brush and Cas’s fingers tighten on his arms—  
  
The door opens.  
  
They both jump apart and Dean looks around for something to look busy with. He can’t find anything, so he stands in the corner of the room, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.  
  
“Am I... interrupting something?” Fae looks genuinely surprised at the tense atmosphere the room holds. Dean clears his throat.  
  
“Just cutting his hair. We’re all done here.” He slaps Cas too hard on the shoulder and leaves as fast as he can, past Fae and into the hot morning air.  
  
He doesn’t come back to Bobby’s until the sun’s rising for the next morning.


	9. Chapter 9

**22nd July 2010**  
  
Jude finds him, hunched over on the seat on Bobby’s porch. He’s still wearing his clothes from the day before, there’s two days worth of stubble on his chin, his hair is rough and tousled and his skin is clammy.  
  
“You look like shit,” she says as she sits down next to him. He doesn’t berate her for her language, or even spare her a glance. His head is loose and stooped, hands dangling between his parted legs.  
  
“Take my mind off of it?” he asks quietly, voice low. “Tell me anything.”  
  
Jude doesn’t ask him to elaborate, and for that, he’s glad. There’s a long silence, and for a moment, Dean thinks she’s left, until she shifts next to him.  
  
“It was my fault,” Jude starts quietly. She sounds lower than Dean’s ever heard her, miserable, voice cracking. “Just over a year ago, my ma and me. We were on a hunt. Nothing weird, just demons. But she...” Her voice cracks. “I turned my back, and they got to her. Cut through her tattoo and crawled inside her like she was just a lump o’ skin. As it beat me, the demon kept talking about the end, and seals and the Devil. I couldn’t do anything, didn’t know what it wanted. I was close when the demon’s eyes turned back. My ma took control, told me to kill her. So I did. She died, the demon went with her. I got out, but...”  
  
Dean looks up and watches Jude’s bottom lip tremble. A tear catches on her eyelash and falls onto the wood by her feet.  
  
“May Cooper. The second seal.” Jude’s eyes reach Castiel first, but he’s looking at Dean. “It was saved without our help.”  
  
Dean’s mouth is dry. He tears his gaze away and rubs a hand across his mouth, almost as though he wants to wipe away his guilt. It was his fault. He’d broken, he’d torn down the first seal, he’d...  
  
“This was my ma’s,” Jude held up her finger, and Dean watched her curl a ring around it. She sniffs and wipes away the tears with the backs of her hand, laughing. “I’m not a crybaby.”  
  
Castiel seats himself on the other side of Jude, and Dean keeps his sturdy eyes on the floor.  
  
“This is just...” Dean shakes his head and lets out a humourless chuckle. “You think it’s all a little too perfect? You know Ellen, your mom was the second seal, you found Cas. It’s like this whole thing...”  
  
“Is a prophecy,” Cas finishes. Dean finally looks up to meet his gaze and Jude looks between the two, getting increasingly uncomfortable as the time stretches.  
  
“Right.” She nods and sniffs. “Okay, I’m going.”  
  
She leaves and Dean opens his mouth to call her back. He doesn’t want to be left alone with Cas. Not now. So, he gets up to go too, without a word.  
  
Cas grabs his wrist.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
“No,” he says, pupils drawn to the corner of his eyes. “Just let it go, Cas.” He waits for Cas to release him, because he can’t bring himself to pull away. He doesn’t like this... this draw that he’s suddenly gotten toward Cas. It’s wrong, because he’s a guy whose only ever gone after women; it’s wrong, because he’s only just gotten over the fact that Cas isn’t dead; it’s wrong because it’s supposed to be  _right_.  
  
Cas releases his wrist, and he goes.

-

**25nd July 2010**  
  
They dance around each other for the next few days... more than usual.  
  
Jude notices and she suspects, but she says nothing. Sam assumes they’re fighting again, as do Fae and Bobby. Castiel researches the different ways he can be on the brink of death, which he can come back from easily. He doesn’t have much luck.  
  
It’s late in the evening. After Dean’s little reckless adventure the other day, Sam had lectured him on how the angel could have found him and blah, blah, blah. Dean had switched off. Sam didn’t know how desperate Dean had been to get away from it all.  
  
He was still conflicted, still worried. It’d happened, just like that. A sudden attraction, a sudden urge, a sudden need. He wants to put it down the stinkin’ prophecy. That the whole ‘soul bonding’ bullshit was true, and it was all fake. Everything he was feeling was forged, angel mojo, prophecy crap.  
  
But he can’t pin it down to that. And that’s what bothers him.  
  
Dean wanders into the kitchen, head in the clouds, and reaches for the whiskey on the side. It’s then he realises that he’s not alone and he looks over his shoulder.  
  
Fae and Jude are arguing in hushed whispers in the lounge. Jude’s protesting over whatever it is and Fae’s trying to push it onto her, waving around her phone.  
  
“Am I interrupting something?” Dean says, an echo of Fae’s question to him a few days ago. Their hissed argument stops, but they don’t look at him, glaring at each other with a venom Dean hadn’t seen before.  
  
“No,” Jude grinds out in finality. She storms out dramatically, leaving Fae in the dark. She’s running a hand through her hair and her conflicted expression sends away the amusement Dean had felt.  
  
“Everythin’ alright?” He asks warily. Fae clenches her jaw.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s good.” She walks past him distractedly, clicking about on her phone, and leaves through the front door, like it wasn’t strange to be going outside at eleven pm. Dean raises his eyebrows, shrugs, and goes back to drinking his whiskey.  
  
When everyone wakes up the next morning, Fae and Jude are gone.

-

**26th July 2010**  
  
“Did you hear what they were talking about?  
  
“Were they acting strange?”  
  
“What’d they say to you?”  
  
Sam, Bobby and Cas are surrounding Dean, pummelling him with questions.  
  
“Woah, hold up. I’ve told you what happened, will you back off?” Dean holds up his hands, creating a barrier between the three grown men shuffling him closer and closer to the wall.  
  
“They told you nothin’?” Bobby asks. Dean stares at him funny, because since when did he care? He had two less guests to worry about.  
  
“No, alright? Miss Robinson left through the front door and tantrum turbo stormed outta the room.” Dean stares at the three expectedly. “So, we done?”  
  
They move away, their shoulders sinking with disappointment.  
  
“So, what do we know? Where could they have gone?” Sam asks, perching himself stiffly on a chair behind him. He’s worried, a little stunned, still having trouble processing that his Wondergirl had upped and ditched him. Dean wants to be able to sit next to him and tell him it’s gonna be fine - that they’ll find them – but he can’t even convince himself. He’s thinking about Jude, what she told him yesterday, what she’s carrying around with her. He wants to pull her back in, tell him that he’s chock full of bad stuff too and that he can help her. But she’s left him, like John did, like Sam did, like Cas did.  
  
He shouldn’t have expected anything less.  
  
“I say we leave ‘em,” he says, ignoring Sam’s question, “They left; they clearly don’t wanna be around anymore. Just let them go.”  
  
“Dean, the angel is hunting them,” Cas protests. Dean shrugs.  
  
“Not our problem anymore. Let the stupid sons of bitches be angel fodder—“  
  
A fist slams against the edge of his mouth and he stumbles backwards, his lower back slamming into Bobby’s desk. He steadies himself and a few things fall to the floor.  
  
“Damnit,” Dean mutters, thumb brushing against the blood on his lips. His gaze rises, slowly, and he glares venomously at Cas, whose knuckles are decorated with a light splattering of Dean’s blood.  
  
Cas doesn’t need to say his warning, and Dean doesn’t need to know where he stepped out of line. Sam’s rushed forward and is holding Cas back with one hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Cas, leave it. Dean’s just worried.” Sam’s assurance seems to work. Cas steps back, lowers his fist back to his side, eyes dark and threatening.  
  
“Ain’t you just sparkling today,” Dean quips at him. He attempts to make it sound humorous, but it comes out with bite. Castiel lips press together and a tick goes in his jaw.  
  
“Cool your heads, idgits. Think it through,” Bobby says gruffly, stepping between the two of them. “Chances are, our holy hunter’s gonna be too busy chasin’ after his meatsuit to worry ‘bout ‘em. We’re top o’ their hit list now.”  
  
His words ease the tension, though they’re still faced the possibility that Fae and Jude were gone for good. They all seem to be thinking of the same thing and there’s a mutual silence as they absorb this.  
  
Sam wanders out of the room, presumably to his bedroom, so he can mope. Dean wants to go after him, and talk, but nothing he says will make it better. Sam’s lost someone he loved, again. As if Jess wasn’t bad enough.  
  
The only difference this time was that she had left willingly.  
  
“I told him it’d be a bad idea.” Dean shook his head and slumped back onto the worn sofa, rubbing at his forehead. Bobby doesn’t seem to want him to elaborate. He takes one look at the sofa, where he and Jude had been seated a few nights before, and leaves.  
  
It’s just Dean and Cas.  
  
“I don’t understand...” Cas mumbles. His chin is pressed to his chest and the floor seems to be the most interesting thing in the room to him. “Why would she... Why would they...”  
  
“Because that’s how it always is,” Dean intends for it to come out angrily, but it’s quiet and defeated, “We’re cursed. Winchester’s have a thing for gettin’ ditched by the people they love. Especially me. I mean, I was abandoned by dad, and Sam, and you...”  
  
Dean doesn’t realise what he’s said until a deep silence stretches out between them. When he looks up, Cas still looks distraught, but there’s surprise and the quirk of a smile around his lips.  
  
“You... You love me, then?”  
  
Dean swears his stomach falls through and he covers up his discomfort with a cough and a forced shrug.  
  
“Sure. I’d rather have you, angel or not. If I want you around, that’s good news. Means you’re on the same page as Sam and Bobby.”  
  
The light’s faded a little from Cas’s eyes, but he still looks appreciative. He moves over the sofa and seats himself not so close to Dean that they’re touching, but close enough for Dean to feel the warmth coming from his arm.  
  
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Cas looks at him, knees spreading wider and hands loose between them. Dean watches them part, and his mouth goes dry. “I love you, too.” Dean’s gaze is drawn straight to Cas and they converse through their eyes. Words pass between them neither of them want to say, and apologies, and worries that they need to put aside. Cas looks down. “Of course, I love Sam, too.”  
  
The ecstatic feeling that had spurted into Dean’s gut is yanked away. Dean swallows down the heavy rock that grows in his throat. Oh, he saw that. He knew what Cas just did and he doesn’t know whether to make a joke and play it safe or snap at him or just lean forwards and capture those god damn perfect, slightly-quirked, plush lips—  
  
“You really...” Dean stops, his tongue poking out between his lips to brush along his bottom lip. Cas’s eyes follow the movement, and it’s there again. That fissure, that tension that just makes Dean want to run and lean forward both at the same time.  
  
“Can you promise me something?” Cas asks suddenly, moving closer. Their thighs brush together.  
  
“Depends,” Dean’s voice has gotten subconsciously quieter. He ignores the thought that’s niggling at the back of his head, telling him that he’ll regret not flinching away. That he’ll remember that it was Cas he wanted to kiss, it’s Cas he wanted to see with his clothes stripped to the floor, it’s Cas he wanted to see with red marks over his neck that Dean had put there—  
  
“You’ll kiss me. Properly. Before I face the angel.”  
  
Dean’s distracted gaze flicks up from Cas’s lips to his eyes. They’re not teasing him now. They’re sincere and hopeful. The reminder of the angel makes Dean hurt a little, because he could lose Cas again, and he doesn’t want to. Not when they’re so close to becoming... something. So Dean fakes nonchalance and shrugs.  
  
“Why not? I’ll give you a real smacker before you bite the dust.” Dean gets up and heads over to Bobby’s desk, drawing out his private stash of beers. He doesn’t offer one to Cas. “God knows I’ve had enough experience.”  
  
“That’s not why I want you to do it,”  
  
Dean pretends he doesn’t hear Cas and points at him with a warning finger.  
  
“I know how many are in there.” He hits the desk with the back of his shoe and he doesn’t have to elaborate for Cas. The message is clear.  _Don’t touch the alcohol._  
  
He leaves Cas alone in the living room and with his back turned, allows the smile to cross his lips. He’s made a promise, and he intends to keep it.

-

**28th July 2010**  
  
A few nights later, Dean sticks to his word.  
  
Early that morning, Cas had received a text. It was from Jude. It had said nothing but ‘fine back soon’. There were a few random letters that followed and it made Dean smile, because he knew it was where Fae had caught her and had tried to grab the phone. The message had been sent, however, and it’d created a new atmosphere in the house. One that was relaxed. As relaxed as it could get, anyway. They had just over a day left before the angel would track down Cas, and they’d have a battle to fight.  
  
Their last one, Dean hoped.  
  
When Dean comes down that evening – having awoke from a nightmare – he pauses in the doorway. Cas is on the sofa, lamp light flooding down across his trenchcoat-less body. His suit jacket is off too, sleeves rolled up on his white shirt, top buttons undone. It makes Dean’s mouth water inappropriately and he shakes his stiffened limbs, moving to the edge of the kitchen counter.  
  
“I thought I told you I was keeping count.” His voice is loud in the dark and Cas jumps a little, spilling the beer down his shirt. There are other empty bottles scattered on the floor next to him.  
  
“You said nothing about not being allowed to drink them,” Cas retorts easily, wiping away the beer on his chin with the back of his hand. Dean unfolds his arms and makes his way over. Instead of shoving Cas’s legs off of the sofa, he slots himself into the space at the end and brings his own legs up, wrapping them around Cas’s.  
  
“You gotta deal with this,” Dean says, waving a hand at the alcohol. “Seriously. You’re just gonna wreck yourself.”  
  
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas’s speech is slightly slurred, but he seems to have some of his wits about him. “Think of it like a child. When they first learn to walk, they never stop, until the fun of it wears out, and they do it less.”  
  
“So you’re gonna keep drinkin’ till the fun wears out?” Dean shakes his head. “Dude, it never stops. There’s too much alcohol out there to try, you’ll keep going.”  
  
Cas stares at him like he’s thinking of something entirely different but eventually lets out a sigh and puts the beer aside. “Okay.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows rise. “Seriously? You took that too easy. Do I need to search you? You got a bottle of whiskey stored away in that scrawny body of yours?”  
  
Castiel draws his gaze back to Dean and his eyelids flutter down into a slow blink, like he’s urging Dean on.  _Search me, I dare you_. He’s staring at Dean languidly, mouth parting gently and it’s making Dean uncomfortable in a way that’s too good. He tries to hold it for as long as he can – the urge, the gaze, the anticipation – but he caves. He crawls forward, straddling Cas’s outstretched legs, and swoops forwards so his face is inches above Cas’s. Cas is slumped, so his posture allows Dean to lean over him, noses nuzzling.  
  
“Dean, I would...” Cas is nervous and he tries to swallow it down. “I would very much like that kiss now.”  
  
Dean doesn’t argue.  
  
Their lips brush, once, twice, and then Dean completes it. He pushes in hard, arms trembling, both from panic and the weight they’re holding up. Cas hums when Dean pulls back, turning his head to dive back in. Oh. Oh, this angle is  _good_. It’s slow, and sensual, and it hurts a little too, because there’s a cut and bruise on Dean’s lips.  
  
It’s painful pleasure, though. Cas pushes upwards, trying to capture more of Dean’s mouth. Too soft. It’s too soft, and he wants more, and Dean gives it to him. Urges Cas’s lips open with his own and sweeps his tongue inside.  
  
And the sound that Cas makes,  _god damn_ it’s gorgeous. He frickin’  _whines_  and struggles to sit up more, struggles to pull Dean closer, fingers clawing at his back. They battle, the kiss speeds up, and it’s not sensual anymore. It’s greedy and hungry and hot.  
  
The shift in position means Dean can take his weight off of his arms, so he does, and his hands snap to Cas’s face, keeping him still, allowing him to dominate, taking over the kiss with a ravenous force. One stroke of his tongue along Cas’s, and Cas is lost, pulling away and gasping for breath, his tongue still poking through his delicious, divided lips.  
  
“More,” Cas pants. “Please.”  
  
Dean’s eyes roam over Cas’s face, taking in the blown pupils, the flushed cheeks, the innocent, ruined expression, and he completes his search by staring at the red, thick open mouth.  
  
“Cas,” he says simply, and it’s not a warning or a call for attention, he just says it because he can. Then he pulls back, hauls off his own t-shirt, the feather amulet slapping against his chest, and busies himself with Cas’s buttons.  
  
“What are you—“ Cas gasps when Dean’s fingers find his nipple, and twist it. Dean takes advantage of the open mouth and plunges back in, fingers teasing and pressing at hard skin. He’s used to warm globes of flesh; he’s used to smooth, unblemished skin. But this feels too good, this stubble and hardness and beneath his hands. He feels like he doesn’t have to be careful. Like he can let himself go. When Dean pulls back for breath again, Cas tries to speak. “That... that feels good,” Cas stammers.  
  
“Wanna go a bit further than kissing?” Dean whispers into his neck. He doesn’t want to stop, because if he does, he’s going to question it. He’s going to second guess, and he’s going to clam shut. Forget this ever happened, and wish at the same time that it happened again.  
  
“W-what do you – ah – mean?” With a smirk, Dean bends down and captures the abused nipple in his mouth.  
  
Cas’s breathless ‘ _oh_ ’ is almost better than the whine. Dean heads down further, opening the shirt as he mouths at Cas’s ribs and skin, leaving bites and red marks behind. Cas is squirming now, like he wants something, but can’t quite decide what it is. Dean hopes his confident movements hide his nervousness, because he’s heading down further, and he’s at Cas’s hipbones now. He spends time with them, hands pressing down on Cas’s stomach as he licks and nibbles on them.  
  
“ _Dean,_ ” It’s desperate, horribly so, and when Dean looks up along Cas’s beautiful, exposed body to look at his wrecked expression, he’s not freaked by the lack of breasts or female features. It feels... right.  
  
In one, harsh movement, Dean grinds the heel of his palm against Cas’s tented trousers, and Cas almost  _chokes_  
  
“O-Oh,” He stutters, and his hips jerk up, seeking more friction, more skin, more contact. With quick, nimble fingers, Dean draws out Cas’s hard cock from his trousers, and again, it should be weird, but it feels heavy and warm in Dean’s hand, and he examines it. It’s wide, the head shiny and red, a bead of pre-come forming at the tip. His mouth waters, and before he can register his movements, he’s leaning forwards and lapping it away.  
  
Cas arches and moans into the back of his hand. Dean has to press down harder to stop Cas’s hips from colliding with his forehead. Dean’s legs are cramping, he’s squeezed on a tiny sofa, he’s nowhere near as confident as he should be, but everything was perfect. He loves this; loves seeing Cas squirming and twitching beneath him.  
  
He moves his knees so he’s straddling one of Cas’s legs, and with one hand, he frees his own cock. He looks up at Cas and strokes himself a few times, biting back his groans.  
  
“You’re...” Dean twists his hand, the way he likes it, and his words get stuck in his throat. “Jesus, Cas, you have no idea how you look right now.”  
  
Cas just stares down at where Dean’s hand is stroking himself, chest heaving with weighty breaths. He’s getting off on it. He enjoys watching Dean’s cock disappear between a hand that’s not his, loves the way Dean’s hand slows when he gets the angle just right.  
  
Dean can’t—  
  
He leans over, takes Cas back in his mouth, sucking hard.  
  
Cas shouts something unintelligible, slamming the back of his hand back over his mouth to keep himself quiet. The moans still slip through when Dean’s tongue presses against the ridge of Cas’s cock, and Dean’s hips grind into Cas’s legs, rubbing his own erection along him in a way that’s  _perfect_.  
  
“D-Dean.” Cas’s free hand grips his hair, but doesn’t force him down deeper. Dean works slowly, figuring out what Cas likes the way women had worked on Dean, and he can’t be doing too bad, because Cas’s head is tossing to the side, a low whimper seeping through his throat.  
  
Dean has to stop. He needs to catch his breath, and he needs to change position. His arms are aching. He shifts them, puts Cas’s thighs over his shoulders – it’s better, and he presses his nose to Cas’s inner thigh, breathes in his scent – and then he stops. He doesn’t know what to do next.  
  
Does he keep going? Bring Cas to orgasm with his mouth? Or does he use his hand and bring him over the edge with a bite to his thigh?  
  
He swallows, and goes further down. He mouths at Cas’s balls, sending Cas into a writhing mess above him, and then he hesitates. Should he go further?  
  
He does. His mouth waters with the crushing desire to do it, so he does. He licks a stripe from the base of Cas’s balls to his hole, and  _oh_  Cas’s groan is filth.  
  
“W-w-what,” is all Cas gets out. Dean dives back in, closing his eyes, digging his tongue deeper into Cas’s hole. It’s not exactly pleasant, but not unpleasant either. How can it be such a terrible thing, when Cas is making porn-worthy noises above him, almost  _sobbing_  into his hand in an attempt to stifle his moans. “D-Dean, please. Please, stop. I need you, I need...”  
  
Dean pulls away, and he’s had enough. He can’t speak, let alone form an intelligible word, because damn, he’s never been this aroused, never needed it this much. He straddles Cas’s legs again, slots their cocks together – an action that seems strange to him, but not at all bad – and pushes his mouth back into Cas’s. They move together, Dean meeting Cas’s thrust for thrust, muffled groan to muffled groan.  
  
“Cas,” he breathes into Cas’s mouth, and he feels Cas’s smile. He smiles back, bringing his hand down to their sliding, wet erections. He takes them both in his hand, grips tightly, strokes one, two, and then they’re both going over the edge, feather amulet dangling between them. Cas arches high beneath him, eyes blown open and mouth vulnerable and exposed. Dean’s eyes widen, and his forehead collides hard with Cas’s shoulder. He gasps, watches Cas and him paint each other with their fluids, and then his body sags forwards, sweaty skin hitting sweaty skin.  
  
They’re still both wearing some of their clothes. Dean’s jeans low on his hips and Cas’s shirt open wide, like wings.  
  
“That was...” Cas says after a minutes silence.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean finishes, and he has to laugh. “Who’d have thought...”  
  
“Apparently, the angels,” Cas shivers when Dean’s fingers stroke along the inside of his wrist. There are scars there, where he’d cut himself to paint the seals. Dean presses a little too hard on the fresh wound, but it just makes Cas suck in a breath. He looks up, and Dean’s looking down at him.  
  
They’ve swapped. Dean’s looking down at him with this reverence and strength, and Cas is looking up at him with openness and hope.  
  
“We gotta clean this mess up before Sam or Bobby get down here.” Dean breaks away, hands trembling. “They wouldn’t let me forget it.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
He looks back at Cas and he sees promise there. He sees more of what he could get – what they could do. But he shakes it off and hauls himself off of the sofa.  
  
“Just so you know,” Dean says. He looks over his shoulder. Smirks. “There ain't no way we're not doin' that again.”


	10. Chapter 10

**29th July 2010**  
  
They prepare themselves as best as they can. They’ve got nothing that can work on the angels, but apparently, Dean feels better with a gun around his waist.  
  
Castiel is hunched over the table, downing glass after glass of water. He didn’t have a hangover per se, but he wants to flush his system. He wants to be as pure as he can when he faces off with his brother.  
  
“Uh, Cas?” He looks up, and Sam’s leaning back against the kitchen counter, med kit strapped around his waist. He’s looking down at Cas’s neck and gestures vaguely to his own, “You’ve got... bite marks.”  
  
Sam doesn’t notice Dean drop his med kit on the other side of the kitchen. With a smirk, Cas looks back down at the table.  
  
“Just a rash. It’s nothing.”  
  
Sam nods, seemingly pleased with his answer. Dean throws Cas a heated glance, and Cas meets it with his own.  
  
“You kiddos ready?” Bobby says as he enters the kitchen. He has a med kit, too.  
  
They were still unclear of Cas’s plan, but Cas knew. He’d found nothing, so he had no choice but to take the angel head on, hope that they would be prideful and arrogant and take pleasure from giving Cas a slow, painful beating. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to – not after last time, when the pain had rendered him useless – but it’s all he’s got. And he didn’t even know if defeating this angel would stop the others. Cas had been going off of the fact that this angel was a rogue who felt that Cas’s punishment wasn’t enough. If it wasn’t, he had another angel he would have to deal with.  
  
As long as he held the weapon first, the others would be able to use it afterwards. That was what he had to aim for and that was what he had to hope would happen. Because if he died, then it would all be for nothing. He wouldn’t be there to stop the angel from attacking Sam and Dean.  
  
“We just gonna wait—“  
  
There’s a hammering at the door and everyone in the kitchen freezes. Cas is on his feet, and Dean is rigid, aware, awake. The hammering continues and it’s Dean who leaves the kitchen, makes his way to the door. The others follow behind him slowly, warily, guns pressed to their hands like they were weapons that would work.  
  
The latch on the door opens and there’s silence. Dean isn’t thrown backwards, there isn’t any lightning, or a booming voice demanding for Castiel. They hurry around the corner and their shoulders sag with relief.  
  
Dean’s hugging Jude tightly, a huge, goofy smile on his face that’ll he deny was ever there later. Fae’s there too and when Sam rounds the corner, she’s running forward, immediately in his arms. They’re kissing, but no one notices.  
  
“You assholes,” Dean whispers into Jude’s hair. She’s got scratches on her face and a bandage over her wrist, but she’s alive, and she’s breathing and he’s missed her. It’s been a few days and he’s missed her. Cas can see that and he’s moving forward, too. He runs a hand over her hair and Bobby’s next to them, smiling down at Jude like she was his own little treasure.  
  
“Where did you go?” Dean asks. Fae and Jude still say nothing, but they grin, and Dean can see pure joy in their eyes. That’s when a man walks through the door and he’s banged up too, but he’s grinning. Dean knows who it is, and his face falls into an expression of amazement.  
  
“You found him.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.  
  
The man grins. “They found me.”

-

The man – Jeff - scarfs down sandwich after sandwich and talks between mouthfuls.  
  
“Went hunting after their ma died. I wanted to find out about what caused it; what the seals were, why they’d been gabbling about Lucifer and whatnot. Found a couple of demons who were more than happy to tell me. One told me about the Winchesters, which was a little bit of a shocker, since I’d already heard of you from Ellen.” He looks up at Dean and Sam, “That’s you, isn’t it?”  
  
They’re a little unsure about whether or not they should nod, but they do. He snorts and returns to his food.  
  
“Of course, word got round that someone was getting a little over curious. Demons locked me up nice and tight about a week back, just as I was makin’ my way back to my girlies. These two found me, god knows how. Said they’d gotten a text from someone... it wasn’t a number. Just showed symbols or something.” He waves a hand. “But they found me. Told me they had to get back to ‘Bobby’s’, which was,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “Really strange, ‘cos Ellen told me ‘bout Bobby Singer and my girlies had found him through the Winchesters, which again...” He shakes his head. He looks up at them all. “You think this is a little weird? We didn’t know you, but we also kinda did?”  
  
Sam lets out a breathless laugh.  
  
“Yeah, trust me, we know.”  
  
 “Anyway,” Jeff sits back in his chair, apparently finished with his food. “All I got from those two was that they needed to get back here for something. Anything I should know?”  
  
Dean opens his mouth and looks over at Fae and Jude. They smile and scratch the backs of their heads innocently, but before anyone can start to explain the situation, thunder booms overheard and rain starts to fall outside.  
  
The sky is dark. Everyone falls silent.  
  
“Castiel,” a familiar voice rings out from outside the shack. It washes over Dean, chills him to the bone, and he stares at Cas, worry and panic over his features.  
  
It was time.  
  
They all start to head outside, Jeff tagging along behind them, jumpy and excited.  
  
Dean opens the door first. Outside, standing in the clearing, is Zachariah. Wind and rain spin around him and there’s wave after wave of power oozing through the air.  
  
“Zachariah,” Dean hisses. “Flashy bastard.”  
  
Sam hums in agreement. Jeff looks between the two of them blankly. When Cas moves forward, next to Dean, he bites his lip anxiously.  
  
“You sure about this?” Dean asks him, discreetly hooking their index fingers together. Cas meets his gaze, sweeps his thumb along the back of Dean’s knuckles, and nods.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He walks.  
  
The others follow him, but go no further than the porch. Dean clenches his jaw tight, holds back any protests he has, holds back what he wants to say, holds back everything. He just watches as Cas gets closer to Zachariah, maybe closer to death.  
  
Jude reaches out and grasps his hand like she knows what’s going through his head, and he squeezes back. Sam and Fae have their arms wound each other’s waists, watching nervously; Bobby’s resting a hand on Jude’s shoulder and Jeff? Well, he’s skittering about like an alarmed puppy.  
  
“What’s going on? Who’s that? What’s—Holy crap, are those wings?!”  
  
Zachariah sends the lightning in front of him, creating a barrier between him and Castiel. On the ground, his shadow is painted black, wings outstretched on either side of his body.  
  
“Castiel,” he grounds out and Cas nods.  
  
“Zachariah.”  
  
“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”  
  
“To kill me. Though,” Cas frowns, “I originally thought it was further punishment for my actions. But you’re alone. It’s more than that.”  
  
Zachariah’s evil smirk falters, but his eyes remain bright.  
  
“The others didn’t want you cast out, but it had to be done. They praise you for saving the world. Perfect little Castiel,” Zachariah scoffs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “They know, you see. About the other prophecy. They knew it was you that was foretold to fall for a disgusting hairless ape.” When Zachariah glances over to Dean, Castiel moves nearer until he’s close enough to stretch his arm out and grasp Zachariah’s cheeks between his fingers. He yanks his head around to face him.  
  
“You will not talk of Dean like that,” Cas warns. Zachariah smacks his hand away effortlessly, amusement faded and pride wounded. “The cogs have started to turn. The prophecy is almost in place.”  
  
Zachariah laughs. “Oh, but it’s not. Deano isn’t quite there yet, is he? His conflicted, weak human heart doesn’t know what to do. You don’t have enough time.” He pushes Castiel with immense force and Cas flies further and further back until he collides with a car on the edge of the circle. He’s winded, coughing, spine electrified with white hot pain. When he raises his head, Dean’s off the steps and staring at him, scared. He holds up a hand, gestures for him to stay.  
  
Zachariah’s suddenly in front of him again.  
  
“I need to stop you. I can’t let you and Dean become archangels, not while I exist. I have plans for the world and you’re not to ruin them.”  
  
He jerks out a hand to clutch Castiel’s throat, but Cas catches his wrist in a tight, painful grip. Zachariah’s surprised, then pained. Cas squeezes tighter, and tighter, and then Zachariah’s falling to his knees. The feather amulet slips out of the shirt Cas is wearing, and dangles over them. It’s glowing bright, particles of grace dancing back towards Cas’s chest. It’s giving Cas power.  
  
But it’s not enough.  
  
Suddenly, Zachariah is up, and Cas is back on the floor, clutching his stomach. He was lucky. He’s writhing on the floor, and he tries to make a diagnosis. What was it? Lung cancer? Stomach cancer? Internal bleeding? Whatever it is, it’s killing him, but it won’t be enough. For Zachariah to kill him, finally, he’ll need the weapon. The angel dagger.  
  
Through the haze of pain and rain and wind, Cas can see it slip down Zachariah’s sleeve. He’s moving, closer and closer and closer. Cas knocks the dagger from his hand, grabs it—  
  
\--Zachariah steps on his wrist. Cas yells in pain, his fingers uncurl. He’s lost it, and he’s falling deeper and deeper...  
  
He closes his eyes.

-

“What is... Is no one going to tell me why that guy’s getting beaten by something supernatural? Shouldn’t we be killing it?”  
  
“You ever try killing an angel, Jeff? Trust me, it ain’t easy,” Dean attempts to jest, but he’s too busy watching Cas. Zachariah’s kneeling before him now, and Dean’s heart is thumping with anticipation, because it looks like he’s got the upper hand. Cas could win this, maybe he doesn’t need to be near death, maybe he could—  
  
“An angel?” Jeff’s voice is surprisingly angry and when Dean turns to look at him, he’s gone. He’s running, across the scrapyard, through the wind and Dean sees Cas is on the floor now, twisting in pain and something prickles up the back of neck. He has to move. He has to get to Cas. He has to—

-

There’s white, blinding light, and a piercing scream, combined with that of a man.  
  
When Cas opens his eyes again, Zachariah is staring at him, lifeless, on the floor. There’s a dagger in his back, and Jeff is standing over him, breathing heavily. The flustered man kicks Zachariah.  
  
“That was for trying to start the apocalypse and killing my wife, you fuckhead.”  
  
It’s eerie, the silence. No one can quite register what’d happened. Of all the... of all the things to happen. Of all the ways for it to end, it was...

-

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters breathlessly, staring at Jeff’s back like he was a frickin’ king. Jude and Fae laugh and clap their hands together, cheering.  
  
Sam’s laughing too and he grabs Fae’s hand. They run over to Jeff and Cas together - Jude, Dean and Bobby close behind. Cas is barely on his feet before Dean’s throwing himself into his arms, breathing in dust and blood and  _we’re safe, Cas, we’re safe_.  
  
Fae and Jude clap their dad on their back and Sam’s thanking him too, but when he sees Dean and Cas, he freezes. Then Fae and Jude see them, and Jeff, and Bobby.  
  
They’re kissing, Dean’s hands cupping Cas’s cheeks and Cas’s hands digging into his sides, tugging him closer. They’re quiet, watching them, words stuck in their throats and disbelief evident on all their faces.  
  
“I totally called this,” Jude says.  
  
Sam blinks and rubs his eyes. Bobby’s blushing, mouth open, and Jeff... he doesn’t look surprised. He’d just killed an angel, nothing was stranger than that.  
  
“And I thought it couldn’t get any weirder,” Fae says, shaking her head in defeat. “You Winchesters need some normal in your dictionary.”  
  
They start to walk back, but Sam looks back over his shoulder before he walks into the house. Looking into the distance, he sees Cas has Dean’s head in his hands now and he’s pressing kisses to Dean’s eyes, like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Sam blinks back tears that he refuses to acknowledge.  
  
Dean had followed a prophecy, whether he knew it or not. And it’d given him his happy ending...  
  
...In the form of a fallen angel.


	11. Chapter 11

**2nd February 2011**  
  
“Slowly,” Dean urges, hands warily hovering in the air. “Go slower.”  
  
“Shut it, I’m going slow enough!” Jude protests, hands grasping the steering wheel. The gravel rumbles underneath the car, and Dean’s glad they’re far away from Bobby’s house, because Jude was a hazard behind the wheel. And they’d only been moving for a few minutes.  
  
“Just get a feel for it, you don’t need to worry ‘bout changing gears,” Dean says slowly. Jude takes a hand of the wheel to wave her hand around in his face and he tries to slap it away, but she keeps waving it.  
  
“I’m not retarded,” she says, one hand on the wheel and the other still pestering Dean.  
  
“You sure, ‘cos—Watch it!”  
  
The corner of the car catches an old BMW and they jerk forward in their seats. The engine dies out and before Jude can say anything, Dean pockets the keys and clambers out of the car. He runs as fast he can away from it, Jude running after him.  
  
“Come on! It was one nudge! One nudge! Gimme one more try.”  
  
Dean bursts through the front door and dangles the keys in front of her face, breathing heavily. She jumps up to get them, but he pulls them away and pockets them.  
  
“You are a danger to society. Never drive. For the good of mankind,”  
  
“Dean.” Dean turns round. Cas wanders out of the kitchen, black jeans stretched tightly over his thighs and baggy blue v-neck revealing a hairless chest. Dean swallows. “Sam wishes to know if you’re available for a hunt.”  
  
Dean throws the keys over his shoulder and Jude catches them swiftly. She doesn’t leave, though. She tucks herself around the corner of the door and watches. Dean moves closer, hooking his fingers into the loops of Cas’s jeans.  
  
“Depends,” he says in a low voice and Cas is immediately distracted, smile twitching around his lips and eyes roaming around Dean’s face.  
  
“Fae should be here any minute. Jude can look after her. I will go with you.” Cas’s fingers find the edges of Dean’s jeans and his thumbs tease themselves under the shirt, where he rubs circles on the soft skin there.  
  
“She’s pregnant, not disabled,” Jude cuts in from her hiding place in the doorway. They ignore her, but are forced to move away when Fae comes through the door, clipping her sister on the ear.  
  
“Close to it.” She rubs her stomach and blows out a heavy breath. It’s only a small bump, but she’s milking it for all it’s worth. She throws her keys at Dean. “Go get my stuff, twerp.”  
  
Dean grumbles under his breath, leans in to peck Cas on the lips and then leaves, keeping hold of Cas’s hand for as long as possible before letting it go. Fae rolls her eyes.  
  
“I’m surprised you don’t have him on a leash. You’re just gonna go follow him anyway. Lovesick puppies.”  
  
“Hypocrite,” Cas jokes, expression completely neutral save the twitch around his lips. Fae laughs.  
  
“Yeah, okay, pup.”  
  
“Where’s dad?” Jude skitters back into the hallway, eyes darting around excitedly. She’s clutching the car keys in her hand hopefully.  
  
“Probably playin’ poker with Bobby at the bar. Can’t peel them two away from each other either.” Fae seats herself steadily into a dining chair and leans back, blowing up her fringe. Before Jude can run off, she calls out her name. “Tell Sam to make sure he locks up. Last time he left the back door open and the dogs got out.”  
  
Jude waves a hand dismissively at her and runs out of the front door after Dean. Cas stands still, trying his best to keep his distance. Did he really always follow Dean?  
  
Yes, he did.  
  
He goes to leave, but Fae’s out of her seat again.  
  
“Gonna check on the dope to make sure he hasn’t knocked over the oil again.” She sighs, then freezes. “Ah, almost forgot.” She pulls her phone from her pocket, pushes a few buttons, and a message opens up. She gives it to Cas.  
  
“Remember that text I got a few months back? The one that lead me to dad? Sam said you could translate these symbols. No idea what it says, but whoever sent his led us to dad, so I want to thank them.”  
  
She goes, leaving the front door open. The sun’s behind clouds and shadows fall across Cas as he translates the words.  
  
His hand goes slack. He translates them again, and again, and again. His vision blurs and his hand starts to shake and he  _knows_. He lets out a laugh, a hearty, human laugh, and looks up.  
  
“I will,” He says, past the roof, past the sky. He leaves the phone on the table. The symbols unscramble themselves, and spell out the words:  
  
 _‘Live well, Son’_


End file.
